


Isoscelees (Extra E)

by stitchy



Series: R+E+E [2]
Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Catfishing, Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Miniseries Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Richie Tozier, Polyamory Negotiations, Sexting, Something similar to Selfcest, Threesome - M/M/M, adding a third, intergenerational relationship, vers richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: It’s the R+E+E sequel to Better Dreams and Plenty!Established miniseries Eddie x film Richie like to flirt with Eddie’s Instagram admirers as a couple sometimes... which is totally different from how Richie is still maybe kinda sorta in love with Eds, haha just kidding... unless??
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: R+E+E [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682929
Comments: 179
Kudos: 328





	1. #OOTD

**Author's Note:**

> For the inner monologue of this fic to work, you will note that 99% of the time, Richie has compartmentalized Eddie = miniseries Eddie, and Eds = film version.
> 
> I personally think the first fic in the series is required reading, but if you insist on skipping, TL;DR is as follows: Eddie was resurrected from 1990 of another dimension, just in time (2016, in fact) to bring a very gravely injured Eds to the hospital. Richie, in his whirlwind of panic, hooks up with Eddie, then thinks better of it when he realizes that an undocumented time immigrant needs a safe place to crash more than he needs a fuckbuddy. He helps Eddie adjust to the thirty years of culture and technology he missed while Eds is recovering, and yep they fall in love. Richie just loves Eddies, that’s his purpose. He gets Eds, who owes Eddie a life debt, to use his insurancey/documentation powers to rustle up the Official Paperwork that will make it possible for Eddie to get jobs, healthcare, etc- but he hasn’t delivered on this yet. And as far as Eds knows, Richie and Eddie are totally platonic roommates *cough*
> 
> Chapter 1 art is by the lovely [@Kasphacked](https://twitter.com/kasphacked) on twitter!

About three weeks into this Thing that’s definitely a Thing, but otherwise nameless, Eddie comes home one day and Richie knows he’s ready. Maybe from the moment he hears his toolbox settle by the door, but definitely by the time his boots topple onto the floor with a thud. _Thud thud thud thud thud_ they keep thudding. That’s too many thuds- Eddie only has two boots, two feet, two beautiful hands that are unzipping the top half of his coveralls as he comes into the kitchen to greet Richie. 

“Hey there, big guy,” he kisses Richie, standing at the open fridge.

The refrigerator door and one of Eddie’s arms pens him into a little triangular miracle, where he could pick up radio waves playing a waltz from eighty years past, or discover a secret, sunken island built of pearl. The Bermuda Triangle, due about fifteen hundred miles northwest of where it ought to be. Every outlandish fantasy is possible here, as they kiss.

 _Thud thud thud_.

“Hey, Blondie,” Richie says, smiling as he pulls back. He hopes it’s audible over the way his heart pounds under Eddie’s hand.

 _Be quiet for like, a minute, will ya?_ Give a guy a chance to set it up before you punch through with the capper! He should say it. He wants to. He will.

“You making a shopping list?” Eddie asks, tilting his head so his hair flops over one eye. Delightful.

Richie looks back and forth between the fridge and the notepad he’s holding, where he’s workshopping rhymes for broccoli. “Sort of,” he figures. “Filling up my brain cart with ideas. Got a sort of _Schoolhouse Rock_ style song about high fiber diets for gays I’m workin’ on.”

“That sounds like hungry work.” Eddie grins at him. He starts wriggling out of the sleeves of his coveralls so he can wash his hands and get all the way up to his elbows, unimpeded. He’s got one of Richie’s old tees on underneath, _Ask Me About My Podcast!_ and some grease marks on his hands and arms too stubborn to wipe away with a rag, here and there.

“Yeah, yep.” Richie shuts the fridge and flexes, for good, manly measure. “Almost as honest a day’s labor as replacing a carburetor-“

“-It was a camshaft,“ Eddie corrects him, indulgently.

“Started with a C, this time, though! That’s closer than when I called it an alternator.”

Eddie squints at him over his shoulder as he turns the tap on the sink. “Alliteratively speaking, sure. It’s a good thing _that’s_ more your line of work.”

Richie chucks his notepad up on top of the fridge where the manuals for the appliances go to die, so that he can wrap his arms around Eddie from behind. “Admit it,” he rumbles into his ear. “You find my mechanical ignorance adorable.”

Eddie giggles as he scrubs. “Exploitable, certainly.”

“What, you mean it _doesn’t_ take more than one dude to screw in a lightbulb?”

“I hate to be the one to break it, but the jokes have been lying to you this whole time.”

Richie gasps. “I knew it. You just like it when I reach for something and my shirt rides up!”

“I’m a simple man.”

 _He is._ Richie hums agreement into Eddie’s shoulder. He’s not like Richie with all his layers of irony and myriad versions of himself, public and private. If you forget about all the time traveling, dimension hopping shit, Eddie is straightforward and sincere and mind-boggling humble considering how stupid gorgeous he is. He’s simply a good man, who takes care of Richie and who is so easy to care for in return. He waits until Eddie turns off the sink again. _Get a clean take._ Then he turns Eddie’s chin toward him to kiss his cheek and his whole body follows until they’re facing each other, Eddie’s dripping wet hands folded at the small of his back.

“You came home just in time for me to tell you something I came up with, Eddie.”

 _Thud thud thud,_ mutters Richie’s heart.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Eddie readies himself for a joke, already smiling up at Richie.

 _Know your audience_ , they say, and Richie knows this audience so well, he can already hear the hoped for response in the warmth of his voice. When Richie finds the words on their way to his lips now, it’s not like the other first times he’s said it in the past, invariably too late- often as a last ditch effort to salvage Things that were actually Nothings. For once, he’s going to be on time. For once, he’s going to hear it back.

“-I love you,” Richie says.

Eddie blinks up at him, brow jumping in a beautiful moment of joy. “I love you too, Richie. I think- maybe since the beginning, if you can believe that.”

“Well duh, you’d be crazy not to jump on this. I’m a total catch,” Richie winks, gathering up Eddie’s face in his hands.

“I hope you believe that, too,” Eddie laughs, and then he meets Richie in the middle for a very persuasive kiss. Richie knows anything Eddie says, you can take to the bank.

And _hell yeah_ , having someone love you back is a confidence boost! He _is_ a catch! If Richie could have tapped into some of this years back, he might never have developed the personality flaws required to go into comedy. Maybe he would have taken over the dentistry practice like his dad had always hoped! Right now, though- there’s only one kind of oral care he’s interested in.

He teases out Eddie’s tongue and draws it into his mouth as a preview of things to come. Eddie moans into him, hands scrabbling at Richie’s back to pull him even closer. They already knew how much they love to make each other feel good, but now Eddie knows Richie _loves him_ , too. They fuse all of this, pushing themselves together, lips and bodies inseparable. His hands slip from Eddie’s neck, down his body and the _thud thud thud_ of his chest, to his waist where he tied the sleeves of his coveralls while he washed up. Just a little bit too tight for Richie to push down or shove his hands into.

“You installed BloJack,” Richie pouts at the double knot.

Eddie giggles into the top of his bowed head and kisses his hair as he crouches closer. “One of my automotive services.”

Richie pries his fingers into Eddie’s clothes. “Disable it and I’ll give you a little roadside assistance.”

“Not here in the kitchen,” Eddie chides as Richie pulls apart the first knot. “I want to go for a walk with you tonight, and you’ll need your knees for that.”

“You’re wise beyond your many, many, _many_ years, old man,” Richie teases as he gets through the second. Instead of sliding down to kneel on the floor, he straightens up and tugs Eddie close by the length of his sleeves and re-ties them behind himself so they’re stuck together.

“This’ll make walking difficult, too.” Eddie touches his face, brushing his thumb along the line of Richie’s mouth and feeling the corner of his smile as he just _stares_ at Eddie, this beautiful creature wrapped up with only him in this moment. As he often does, Eddie gets a little bashful under the quiet, undivided attention. “What?” he blushes.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” Richie Bogeys. He kisses Eddie again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Eddie grins, making Richie’s spread all the wider, too.

A lightbulb goes off over his head.

“I should!” He undoes the sleeves so he can get into his pocket for his phone. Then he can always have Eddie just like this, loved and knowing it.

Eddie smirks and leans back against the counter, backlit by the late afternoon sun that pours in through the window. He’s got the halo he always deserved. Richie squares the camera on him and snaps a few times until it all catches just right.

“This must be what legit creative people are talking about when they have muses,” he tells Eddie. “The best I ever had was writing just after eating a really fucking good burrito.”

“You’re a creative person,” Eddie frowns. “I don’t know who told you otherwise.”

Richie scrolls through his camera roll to select the best image to message off to Eddie. He’ll probably wanna post it for Bev, who sweet talked Eddie into making an Instagram so they could keep in touch. “You’ve only ever known post-hack Richie,” he says, scrolling back even further to other doting photos he’s taken. Eddie’s elbow-patched sweater. Eddie cutting his pizza with a knife and fork. “You totally missed the decade of crap I put out while I was selling my soul for some sweet hetero success.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Says who? You taught me how to use YouTube, remember?”

Richie’s jaw drops in horror. “Please tell me you skipped the 2014 tour. Please.”

Eddie clears his throat. “-But I’ve seen stuff from much earlier, too. Your hair was longer, and there’s the little logo in the corner with the buildings?” He circles his fingers to illustrate.

Comedy Central hasn’t had little buildings on the logo since- when? Richie was thirty? There’s only a few of his old TV spots floating around from before everyone started walking around with smartphones, recording gigs just as fast as Richie’s manager can dish DMCA takedowns- but they’re out there. That’s about where the break happened between him performing his own material and getting a ghostwriter. As much as he hates the idea of Eddie knowing about the absolute fucking dreck he’d been doing up until they met, it’s some comfort to know that at least he’s been exposed to the more genuine, if deeply closeted Richie, too.

“It’s so unfair I can’t dig out your embarrassing baby pictures,” Richie rolls his eyes. “If you even _had_ an awkward stage, you jag.” He flips around his phone to show Eddie a picture he took months ago, before they started hooking up (on purpose, anyway). They’d been sightseeing all around Chicago, taking selfies at The Bean, and Richie’s scarf would not stop flapping up into his face in the wind, meanwhile this asshole over here looks like he’s starring in a Whitesnake music video.

“Eh. The Seventies weren’t my sharpest look,” Eddie says mysteriously.

“Were their bellbottoms?” Richie asks, tucking his phone away again. “I’m imagining bellbottoms. And flagrant abuse of paisley.”

“It's worse than that,” says Eddie. He pushes himself off the counter, holding up his disheveled coveralls with one hand. “Lapels for days. Belted vests. Wouldn’t leave the house without an ascot.”

“ _Ravishing_ ,” Richie sighs, taking Eddie’s available hand to drag him off for just that.

-

  
  
A few days later, they’re on the couch, half watching (Eddie), half re-living (Richie) the trash fire that is _Scandal._ To distract himself from the ache of seeing a favorite character long since squandered, Richie pesters Eddie with contextual trivia.

“I hear most of this Oval furniture is from _The West Wing_ set. Oh fuck, we gotta watch _West Wing_.”

“Is- is the president the bad guy from _Ghost?_ ” Eddie asks.

“Yep.”

“Gosh, I saw that only a few months ago...”

It must be a mindfuck to constantly run into famous faces that look like they got into a freak accident with the California Raisins. Should he fill Eddie in on the fate of all the other stars, or-

“Wait wait wait, you’ve read up on the whole Clinton-Lewinsky thing this is referencing, right?”

Eddie squints, going through his mental rolodex of all the American history he’s had to cram since leapfrogging through time. “When was that?”

“Uh. ‘96 or ‘97ish? I was in college. Took a while to shake out.”

“Was this a campaign ticket?” Eddie asks. He likes to keep a list of things to research in his phone, so he draws it out.

“God, I _would_ vote for her,” Richie laughs. Then, like a near death experience, every godawful joke he made back then that did not age well flashes before his eyes. “Ugh. Not a ticket, though, no. But you know what? It’s better that you don’t know. Just go follow Monica Lewinsky on Twitter, she rocks.”

Eddie starts to make a note of that instead, but- “I’m not on Twitter.”

“Not yet,” says Richie. “But I saw you blowing up Instagram today. You’ll have more followers than me, soon. It’s time to spread your influencer wings and fly, baby!”

“I- what?” He flips over to his Instagram app and pulls a face. “Huh. It must cap out at ninety-nine likes... Oh that’s nice of her, look- Beverly shared my picture. No wonder.”

Richie leans over to look, squishing Eddie into the arm of the couch as he does. “Aww, look at you, getting DMs from strangers. They grow up so fast!” he sniffs.

So far it’s just the one, actually, that’s not from Richie or Bev. Stan’s on here somewhere, too, but he won’t interact with anyone who posts things besides bird and nature pics. Eddie clicks into the chat, where some young woman with chunky bangs digitally greets him.

_hi Better Dreams! i love your IG and you seem really cool. DO you have a podcast?_

“You hear that, Richie? ‘Really cool’.” Eddie snickers.

“That was just a couple minutes ago, dude, you can probably catch her and tell her what a horrible embarrassing mistake she’s made,” Richie teases.

 _Hi! Thank you. I don’t have a podcast. Just Instagram for now. It’s fun to share pictures,_ Eddie messages back. 

“You used way too many periods, she’s gonna think you’re a serial killer.”

Eddie gives Richie a fondly exasperated sidelong glance. “All right, Cyrano, you tell me what to say next time.”

He’s not trying to boss Eddie around though, so Richie lays his head in his lap and just watches the show for a bit, minding his own business. He entirely forgot that dude from LOST is in the first season of this before he fucks off. Maybe to the island. It could be a shared universe.

Eddie pets his head between messages, smoothing his hair back from the temple. The third time he stops, Eddie draws a sharp breath. “Richie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, that character’s gay,” Richie points.

“Ah, okay. But can I ask you something about us?”

Those are words right up there with _We Need to Talk._ Richie’s scalp prickles like it’s been dunked in cold water. And it had _just_ felt so nice. “What is it?” he asks nervously.

“Well, she asked who takes the pictures of me, and- well I wouldn’t mention you by name, I know better than that. But, can I call you my boyfriend?”

Oh! Richie bolts upright. “Eddie! Yeah, of course!”

“I didn’t want to assume,” Eddie says, looking worried. “I know it’s complicated, with you in the public eye and me not exactly _existing_ as far as the public is concerned.”

“Shit, yeah.” Richie still needs to follow up with Eds about some fake docs. He kind of had a lot on his plate when Richie dumped that request on him. “No, you’re right. We don’t want to draw too much attention to you until that’s worked out. It will be soon, though.”

Eddie relaxes. “It doesn’t come up so much when I’m fixing people’s cars, but you know. I’ll be getting two coffees or something and people like to be friendly and ask who the other’s for.”

Richie knows exactly what Eddie is talking about. They haven’t told the Losers or anyone they regularly see in person about them yet, and it’s been kind of a strain. “Yeah!” he says. “Like, I said to my manager the other day when I had to move a meeting around- _Let me just tell my roommate_ \- and it was the worst feeling I’ve had since, I dunno, feeling like I’m made of fucking sunshine all the time now that I’m with you.”

“Aw Richie.” Eddie beams at him.

“I mean, I went through all the trouble of coming out so I could have this, right? So- I’m not gonna say that anymore, to anyone,” Richie decides. He lays a hand at Eddie’s neck and scratches into the hair at his nape. “I love you too much.”

Sure, if he’s gonna apply this policy across the board, it’ll ruin some of his material about platonic gay roommates signing the lease with their dicks, but that doesn’t matter. Eddie matters.

He leans into Richie, smiling all the way to those big doe eyes. “Well don’t that beat all,” he says in his adorable Boomer way, and kisses him.

Richie chuckles into it. “Aren’t you gonna brag to your new buddy about your hot photographer boyfriend?”

“In a minute...”

When Eddie eventually gets back to his conversation, his little bit of candor goes over even better than Richie could dare hope. Squaregirlwearspants encourages him to tag future photos of himself #gaysofinstagram since, as Eddie quotes, ‘it’s inspiring to see older folks who are out’.

“She really say that?” It makes Richie feel kind of warm and fuzzy, considering. If he wasn’t so determined to let Eddie have his moment, maybe he would let him use Richie’s name just this once.

“Yeah.” Eddie gives him a look that says he knows exactly what kind of an ego rub that would be. “It’s no _Full DisTozier_ tour, but- I think I’ll do it next time.”

  
  
-

  
  
Richie figures he owes his first officially boyfriended call to Bev, since she had been such a help with the tour and prodding Eddie along, but it kind of takes the wind out of his sails.

“Well, I think this is great,” she says. “But make sure you tell Eddie- our Eddie?- before he finds out on his own.”

That’ll require some effort on Richie’s part. “Eds hasn’t called me back since he promised to help with the paperwork. Most I hear from him is in the groupchat.”

“You kind of laid the mother of all existential crises at his feet like, two months after a near death experience, Richie. I’m shocked he didn’t show up in Chicago in the middle of the night to kill his clone.”

“They’re not clones,” Richie grumbles. Bev should know that. She should know _them_. They’re different people. Eds is more challenging, but Eddie is more direct. They can both be slow to trust, but once you get there? Eddie is slow with the way he handles people, too. He savors them. He indulges. Eds, on the other hand- his intimacy is like a game show, barking out as many correct answers as possible before the buzzer. His passion is sharp and thrilling, while Eddie’s is deep and lingering.

Bev sighs. “I know that, but Eds has really been through the ringer.”

“Do you talk to him a lot?”

“Sure. He’s in the same boat as I am, so it’s nice to commiserate. Crazy ex, starting over, and all that.”

Okay, so Bev is right. Freshly undead, in the midst of a divorce, and having a doppelganger from the past are all pretty absorbing independently. Unfortunately, that’s not all of the baggage on this particularly fucked carousel.

“Has he told you that... I told him how I felt?” Richie asks.

“No? You did?” Bev winces. “That puts another layer on things,” she admits.

Richie blows out a hard breath. “Yeah. What the fuck was I thinking?”

“What did you say, exactly?”

“Well, he was talking about Myra making things hard on him, saying that he _used_ her while he was recovering, even though he couldn’t exactly tell her to get lost while he was in a fucking coma,” Richie snarls. “She said that no one would love him like she did, because he was so impossible to get along with... You get the picture.”

“I’ve heard all this, yeah.”

Richie pushes his glasses up into his hair and scrubs his face with the heel of his hand. “So I said- _I love you like that_.”

Eds let him down gently, of course. _That’s uhm, really nice of you to share. I don’t- I’m sorry I don’t feel like that, but it’s... nice to hear? Thank you._

“When was this?”

“Before things with- well. _Fuck_ , Bev.”

She had seen the state that Richie was in at the hospital when the Eddies came in. He was a wreck. Liable to do anything or _anyone_ , maybe.

“Before you and Eddie got together?”

_Just get it out there, Tozier..._

“Yes and no,” Richie forces. “We sort of. Hooked up in Derry.”

“Woah.”

“Just the one time,” Richie rushes. “And then we agreed it wasn’t a great idea- that he needed help getting on his feet more than either of us needed to get laid- but now I love him, Bev. And he loves me, not like-“ Richie cuts himself off.

Bev fills in the blank. “I’ll be honest, Richie, if you told me you were in love with me and I said thanks but no thanks, and then the next thing I knew you were having sex with my twin-“

“They don’t look alike-“ Richie defends feebly.

“You _know_ they have more in common than two guys named John Smith, Richie, get real.”

How much realer can he get than already living with one of them?

“Well it’s never gonna fucking happen with Eds, right? I’m happy with Eddie and my friends should be happy for me, right?” Richie says, getting a little louder than he intends. “So what’s the problem? He should be flattered and move on, _right?!”_

“Right,” Bev says flatly, sounding like she’s had quite enough of being shouted at.

“Bev- I’m sorry.”

She sighs again. “Richie, you’ve got a good thing going, I can see that. When he stops being weirded out, I’m sure Eds will see that, too. Just try not to rub it in his face and kick him while he’s down.”

Richie hears her. Starting on the defense and lording your better fortune over each other isn’t what friends do. Even if Eds has no qualms about him and Eddie being a couple, he can try to be sensitive. The guy’s gotta be lonely.

“Okay. Uhm. I think it might take a few days for me to be chill enough to call him,” says Richie. “Don’t say anything?”

“I won’t. I hope it goes well,” she concludes. “Tell Eddie I said hi.”

“Sure thing, lady.”

  
  
-

  
  
It took some conversion for Richie, but before they go to bed, Eddie likes to shut their phones in a drawer. And really, it’s not so bad living life by the alarm clock again. He probably sleeps better, and he definitely cuddles more attentively.

Still, there’s a last call around 10pm, where Richie will fuck around on whatever dumb game he’s gotten himself addicted to this week and Eddie will make sure he hasn’t missed any good work opportunities on Craigslist. He’ll check Instagram now, too, since it’s gotten busier. With him being sort of a homebody, it’s good he’s getting some extra socialization where he can get it, Richie thinks. He climbs over Eddie to drop his phone into the drawer first, tonight, and then plops down alongside him.

“Anyone else banging down your door, requesting beauty tips?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together. “Not exactly.”

He hands Richie his phone to show him a new message request from rockinbodtodd.

_you’re so hot, it’s crazy_

_can’t wait to see your summer pics_

“Dang,” says Richie, nuzzling into Eddie’s shoulder. He’s wearing another of Richie’s old band tees to bed. Has Richie played any BNL for him yet, or does Eddie think this is another joke slogan? Either way- “Now _I’m_ waiting for those shirtless thirst traps.” Richie nips at the fabric of the sleeve with his teeth.

Eddie hmms. “ _You_ can have some. Not so sure about Todd, here.”

“Well I don’t care about that, if you wanna post beach pictures or whatever. I’ve been half naked in like, four different TV shows, dude. Free The Nipple 2017!”

Granted Richie’s public nudity played more along the lines of, _Ha ha look at this funny hairy man with no abs! He eats carbs!_ while Eddie’s might inspire a viral outcry in the twink loving corners of the internet. But Richie can’t stand in the way of people worshiping Eddie, he’s too busy kowtowing.

“What do I say?” Eddie considers his phone.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Richie says. “Or, you can tell him ‘Thanks my boyfriend says the same thing.’” he suggests. Because he loves that word now. _Boyfriend_.

Eddie taps away. “Pfft. Now he’s wondering if you have an Instagram, too.”

“You could tell him my unverified one, but I don’t think he’s looking for six year old pictures of every cheese fry I’ve ever eaten, he’s looking for my chili dog.”

“I’ll say no, but trust me, my boyfriend's very good looking and tall.”

“With a big dick.”

“Big shoulders,” Eddie allows, typing more.

“And laser vision!”

“Eyes that crinkle when he smiles...”

Richie turns his body a little more so he’s half on top of Eddie and grins down at him. “What’s it like to be so fucking gorgeous that he’ll take my hotness on credit?”

Eddie lowers his phone to receive a kiss. “Well, it landed me you, so pretty darn good, I’d say.” He wraps his arm around Richie’s neck and lets himself be driven deep into the pillows by kisses. He drops his phone entirely when Richie starts pushing up at the bottom of his shirt. “Mmm. Oh, just take it off, I know you want to.”

“Too obvious?” Richie chuckles. He rolls with him in his arms so Eddie ends up on top, where that’s easier to accomplish. Once he’s got it off, Richie flags his shirt triumphantly before tossing it aside.

Eddie combs at his hair, fixing it. “Could you put my glasses aside? Thank you.”

Richie does, but then he remusses Eddie’s hair. “You got it, Blondie.”

“You’re a brute,” Eddie grins.

“And you’re a total babe.” Richie splays a hand on his bare ribs and grabs Eddie’s phone with the other so he can take a picture to send himself. He texts a little kissy winky emoji, too.

Eddie takes his phone back. “For a moment there, I thought you were sending that to him,” he says, when he sees just the text message app open. He adds some of his own flourish for Richie to read later on. “...For. The. Road.”

“What _did_ Todd have to say _?_ ”

Eddie goes back over to Instagram, eyebrow raised. “He says, as long as you treat me right.”

“Mmm, I wanna. How does he suggest I do that?” jokes Richie, with a roll of his hips. Eddie smirks and types. _Oh_. “Did you just send that?”

Eddie freezes. “Shoot. I’m sorry. I just enjoy flirting with you, Richie, I got carried away. I can put the phone down.”

Richie catches his hand before Eddie can drop his phone and brings it to his lips. “Hey, honey, it’s okay, _I’m_ sorry.” It’s not like Richie didn’t egg him on into making this guy think Eddie wants to cyber. “You like flirting with me, but maybe also _with_ me. I can dig that. I like that other people like you. Think you’re fuckin' amazing like I do.” 

“That doesn’t bother you?” Eddie asks.

Richie shrugs. He’s never really had it in him to be a jealous person. Maybe because he’s never had the experience of being exclusive with someone before.

“I want people to like you, too.” Eddie leans down to him. He looks so serious. “I love you, Richie. I only ever loved my Losers like this, before. And we all- we were _all_ in love, I think. So when I love you, I want you to have as much as there is. I want you to have enough.”

Richie looks up at him, wondrous. “I have you.”

Eddie smiles. “You do.”

Does anyone else have a heart as big and sweet as Eddie’s? Even if they don’t work out, somehow Richie knows he’ll be loved for as long as he’s alive. He won’t take that for granted. “Okay. I’m trying to wrap my head around this for clarity’s sake,” he says. He’s gonna get this right. “Flirting’s cool. What about sex? And specifically like, this thing with the dude online? He like, definitely thinks we wanna fuck for his benefit.”

Eddie scoffs. “This- this phone isn’t sex to me. Sex is my body. I only really want you to have that,” he says, very certainly. “And I wouldn’t want you touched by anyone who doesn’t love you, either.” But then he comes over more thoughtful. “But telling someone else about it is-”

“Voyeurism and/or exhibitionism?” Richie offers. For once he's not trying to be funny, but Eddie laughs.

“It’s just _different_ , is what it is.”

But different- good, clearly. Eddie had enjoyed showing off that he had Richie at his beck and call. Imagine if he had some reinforcement to take full advantage of Richie’s people pleasing streak. If he was a little more comfortable ordering Richie around...

Richie gulps. “Would you like it if I did whatever he says?”

Eddie glances at the phone gripped in both their hands and licks his lips, considering. “Within reason.”

“We could just check to see,” Richie says, practically. He kisses Eddie’s knuckles one last time and loosens his grasp. “He’s probably been jerking it this whole time and already got off, so probably all he’s gotta say is ‘I dunno, man, fuck your own damn boyfriend’-”

“Would that be a hardship for you?”

“Not as hard as I would be for you,” Richie waggles his eyebrows.

Eddie chuckles as he sits back again to read. He scans the screen and then puts the phone down to the side. “He says you should watch me take off all my clothes-”

“I was workin’ on that,” Richie points out. He plays with the drawstring of Eddie’s pajamas.

“-And that that better make you good and hard.”

Richie groans. “Fuck, I’m skipping steps.”

Eddie starts to kneel off of him. “I better catch up, then.”

He slips off the edge of the bed and Richie moves quickly to sit in front of him, rapt. Is there a better sight than all of Eddie, all at once? He’s so beautiful, head to toe. The soft light of the evening lands on the smooth lines of his nose and neck and shoulders and his graceful arms. Those slender, long-fingered hands of his smooth down his hips as he lets his pajama pants fall. Then they curl into his underwear, dragging down over Eddie’s own hard cock, not so very far from eye level. He turns on the spot, standing between Richie’s feet, showing off the tawny trail of hair from his belly to his groin and the pair of dimples at the top of his ass, right where Richie’s thumbs should go.

Richie’s mouth waters and he can’t help but reach out to touch the jut of bone at Eddie’s hip and draw him in. “Come sit in my lap?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Eddie nods and holds out his hand for the phone again. Richie gives it to him and he reads. “But first show me what I do to you.”

“Mmmgod.” Immediately, he pulls himself out past the waistband of his sweats, swollen stiff. “You make me desperate.”

“‘Desperate’,” Eddie reports. Then he leans in, hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Come on,” he kisses Richie. “Take those off so I can feel you.”

Richie squirms out of his pants and kicks them away. Eddie tsks at the things being strewn all about when there's a hamper so close by, but pulls Richie’s shirt off too, and drops it on the floor with the rest.

“You’re all willy nilly, tonight, huh?”

“I don’t know what’s got into me,” Eddie says, toeing away the laundry. He brings together Richie’s knees a bit and then turns around to sit on his lap.

Richie twines his arms around him. “Me, in a minute.”

Eddie shivers at the promise, the blades of his shoulders pinching. “You have to kiss me, and touch me.”

“I have to,” Richie agrees. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him that. He kisses between Eddie’s shoulders and glides his hands up and down his lovely back.

“And tell me how bad you want me.”

That’s all? Nice work if you can get it.

“I want you like I’m one of your cars,” Richie says, pressing another kiss. “I want you so much, _thousands of pounds_ of fucking steel, much. I want you blinking my lights and roaring my engine,” he growls. “I want you climbing inside me and rolling under me, on one of those- what’s it called?”

“A creeper.” Eddie chuckles. “I can’t possibly type all this.”

Richie puts on his best impression of Eddie’s New York by way of New England accent. “He wants me so bad, he wishes he was a car. Luckily I’m into that. _”_

“Very lucky,” Eddie says. “Hmm. He wants me so bad he’s using metaphors _._ ”

Richie muffles a laugh into his back then runs his hands around Eddie's waist to his front as he types. He pulls them closer at the hip so he can grind against Eddie’s ass while he feels his way up his panting chest and throat. Eddie leans back into him, becoming liquid as Richie kisses his neck.

“Richie... please,” he whimpers as Richie drifts a hand towards his dick. Richie just holds him to start, nice and firm, but not moving. “Oh, oh _please_ Richie.” Eager for it, Eddie tries to twitch in and out of his fist, but he’s a little too short in the leg to get the leverage for more.

“I wanna take it slow, like this. Just hold you, and touch you,” Richie says as he starts to stroke Eddie lazily. He could spend hours and hours just teasing his darling, making him dizzy with need. That’s probably not something their playmate has the patience for, though. “I could do this all night,” Richie kisses to him.

“Me too,” Eddie says with a tremble. “I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, do you?”

They can do whatever they want when it comes down to it.

“We can keep going until Wednesday, at least,” Richie tells him. “I have a phone meeting tomorrow, but if you can keep quiet...”

“I think you like my feedback too much to stick to that.”

“Hazard of being a performer.”

Eddie huffs a shaky laugh, as good as any applause. Richie wants to give him something to really give a rave review about.

He nibbles his way to Eddie’s ear so he can whisper, “I’m gonna lay you down and open you up, so I can just be inside of you. I’ll stay put once I’m there, filling you. Kiss you. Touch you slow. Make you come before I even _think_ of myself. Is that treating you right enough?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eddie hisses.

“Wanna tell that to rockinbodtodd?”

Eddie casts his phone aside, shaking his golden head. “No, I just want you to do it.”

  
  
-

  
  
It was bound to happen eventually. Eddie claims it was probably the mother of four’s minivan he was replacing the seat belts in, but Richie is still convinced it’s his fault. Eddie is deadly serious about hygiene while Richie is a walking petri dish, always dipping in and out of crowds, shaking hands, and generally relying on those hardy Mainer genes to pull him through. ‘Let the air get at it’ was the Tozier family motto. He probably didn’t wash his hands after taking the L or something stupidly preventable like that, that he _should_ have done, because he lives with someone who doesn’t have the luxury of health insurance.

He loads up at Walgreens and comes home to Eddie, still curled up on the couch where he left him, swaddled in the chunkiest blanket in the apartment. He didn’t even bother putting on his glasses this morning, since unlike Richie he only really needs them for distance, and the TV is close enough.

“Hey, toots.” Richie lays a kiss at the top of his sweaty, miserable head. “Got what you asked for. Sorta.” He lines up a battery of bottles and boxes- mostly comfort foods and various brands of iced tea. They don’t make the kind Eddie likes anymore, so he’ll have to pick a new favorite.

“We should change the pillowcases,” Eddie wheezes through his cocoon. “I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“That’s cute and all, but think the good ship Contamination sailed when I jumped you in the shower last night.”

Eddie answers in a double sneeze.

Ugh. Richie needs to nut up and call Eds about the ID stuff already. This time it’s just a cold, but next time he could get hurt while working, or need a tooth drilled or something. If they’re anything alike, and _yeah_ , Richie has to admit on some levels they are, it must stress Eddie the fuck out that he doesn’t have a safety net in place.

He cracks open one of the Arizonas and puts it in Eddie’s hand before he goes to make his call. “Drink, dude.”

The debate he has with himself about whether or not to close the bedroom door to use the phone goes something like this- Richie hasn’t shut the door since he and Eddie started sleeping together. _Phone calls are private sometimes!_ Not with his manager, or his friends, or Wendy, though? _You can fucking see Eddie is resting in the next room, right? Be quiet!_

He shuts the door. He finds the contact for Eds in his phone. _Spaghetti_. He waits for him to pick up.

“Hey, Rich,” says Eds, too neutral for Richie to project anything onto the greeting.

“Uh, hey man, how’s it going?”

Eds blows out a troubled breath. “Ah, it keeps going, I guess. That’s something?”

Richie winces. “Yeah, sorry, I know you... probably got a lot going on. Catching up on work and moving and the kinda nuts favor I asked and-”

“Fuck! Richie-”

“-fucking physio? I guess?”

Eddie cuts over him. “Shit, I totally dropped the ball on you! I mean. You’re right, shit’s been really whack-”

Aaaand some of that is Richie’s fault! “Err, sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I- I’m able to help. I’m helping. _I should_ , I mean the guy saved my life and its like, worse than if he was undocumented. Setting him up is like? The least I can do? Sorry, I just got really swamped by life and kept... not calling back.” By the trailing of his voice, Eds does sound genuinely overwhelmed.

“Okay, all right, yeah,” Richie says. He doesn’t feel like he’s in a place to forgive Eds, since he is for sure more the one at fault between the two of them, shoving his stupid little heart down his throat without thinking how much he already had going on and asking for a colossal, illegal favor besides. Great friending! Richie clicks his tongue. “So... Where do things stand?”

“Uhm-”

“With the papers, I mean.” Not- he’s not asking about _that_.

“Right.” Eddie clears his throat. “I have someone who can take care of it. I have no idea if we’re being fleeced on the price but-”

Richie shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, I’m good for it.”

“Other than that the only thing I need from you is pictures for the IDs?”

“Gimme a sec.”

This, Richie has anticipated. He speakers the call and goes to look for the super generic shoulders-up pictures they took while Richie was first cooking up a plan to get Eddie a new life. There’s about a million photos in his roll between now and then. Mostly of Eddie, or him and Eddie, or something he saw he thought Eddie would ‘get a good chuck’ out of. He selects a few, smiling and unsmiling, cropped and uncropped, just in case. As they load into the text log with Eds he realizes he accidentally checked a neighboring snapshot of Eddie, boggling at the price of gas on their drive from Derry to Chicago. Hardly incriminating, but still. Richie took it because he couldn’t get enough of the way Eddie ran his fingers through his hair when he was really staggered by something.

“Huh,” says Eds on the other end. “Not what I expected...”

If that’s good or bad, Richie doesn’t know. Is it a relief to see that his other dimensional counterpart isn’t a carbon copy? A let down that he’s psyched himself out about this whole fucking thing for _this_ to be the result?

“Key-yoot, right?” Richie clenches his teeth.

“He’s? Blond? _The other me_ ,” Eddie sort of whispers. He’s probably at work at this hour, trying not to be overheard. Kook alert!

But Richie can’t help feeling the same tangled frustration that he had talking to Bev. “He’s not a you. You’re your fucking self and he’s who he is.”

Eds rattles on, unheeding. “I figured maybe cause of like, the difference in fucking flouride or nature/nurture he’d have like, different teeth or different grooming or whatever the fuck, but this is like-? Did you send the right fucking pictures? No, I know you did, but, it’s just-”

“Anyway!” Richie throws in, hoping to save both them and the rabbit who is minding his own business at the bottom of this hole some embarrassed sputtering. He takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Eds. You can mail them over whenever. It means a lot to me that you’re helping, though. Uh. Because-”

Eds scoffs and there’s the sound of a door shutting. Definitely at the office, then. “Uhhh, _no_. I’m not putting a fucking stamp on these and chancing them to the fucking USPS, dipshit. I’ll book a flight and bring them over myself. If I’m gonna do some fraud, I figure, what the shit, do it in person! And I should meet the guy at least once, right?”

“Uhm.”

“-I should be able to make it out for a visit week after next.”

That’s so soon, that’s too soon. But Richie can’t delay it either. Eddie shouldn’t have to scrounge for under-the-table work forever, he’s way too skilled. And Richie wants to be able to fly with him for weekend getaways and get him flu shots and for it to finally be okay for his Wikipedia page to say something true under Personal Life. _Fuck!_ Richie really hadn’t planned on them meeting so soon, but he _definitely_ can’t let it happen before Eds knows what’s up. It’s not fair to Eddie to make him pretend they’re not together _in his own fucking home_. 

“Eds, that’s- that’s great. It’ll be good to- uhm. Any day but the 27th?”

“Got it. Great.” A pen clicks as he must make a note. “Listen Richie, sorry, but I gotta go. It really will be good to see you, though. I’m excited.“

Richie’s window is closing. “Eds- I gotta tell you about something-“

“Next time, buddy! Promise.”

“Shit. Okay.” When he calls back with a firm date for the visit. Then. “Bye Eds.”

“Bye Richie.”

  
  
-

  
  
He says goodnight to Eddie before his show, since he won’t get back to his hotel until at least midnight, Chicago time. It goes over really well and he gets a chance to talk to some fans at the theater, after, which is less of a chore than it used to be, but still a lot of ol’ grip and grin, _Thanks for coming out, No thank you for coming out_ , _Haha that’s a good one._ It seems he’s always chin deep in women at these meet and greet things now, which Straight Richie would have had a good crack about. He’s mostly just glad anyone came here to laugh. It was Chewbacca levels of hairy for a bit right after he came out, but for the most part the dudebros who are personally pissed off at Gay Richie have moved on to their next outrage. 

A tall woman with a southern accent that’s definitely not from around these parts gives him an extra hard handshake. “I saw the St. Louis show too, last month.”

Richie’s heart squeezes. Somehow he knows this’ll be it, the first to-his-face reaction. “So you’re a ticket hoarding stalker fan, huh?”

“Security!” she jokes back. She lets go and looks away, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I heard the tweak on your bit about the roommate-“

“Yeah...”

“-and it’s none of my business if there even is a roommate, or if he was always your boyfriend and you just wanted to play around with the delivery or whatever, but like- if it’s true I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you. That you get to joke about it now.”

It’s his first time hearing that arrangement of sentiments. People have been complimentary on this coming out tour in a way they haven’t been in ages, but it’s always been like it’s a favor he did for them and not for himself. He encourages that, of course, _Aw thanks, I did it for the kids_ , but really. It was for one particular kid with knobby, scabby knees and goofy glasses above all.

“Thanks! Thank you. Uh-” Ah, fuck his eyes are watering. “I’m happy about it, too.”

“That’s great! Great show!”

Though he would have happily taken a selfie with her even while starting to blubber, mercifully she does not ask.

He really wishes he could see Eddie when he finally crashes for the night. He wishes he could scoop him up in his arms and kiss his face and tell him how it went and thank him for being part of it, but the best he can do at this hour is to belly flop into some hotel pillows and look at pictures. So he does just that. Eddie might even have posted something new, if he checks Instagram.

The most recent post by betterdreamsandplenty is a shot of a several records picked out from their collection and fanned on the shag rug in front of the entertainment system. Richie’s _69 Love Songs_ is mixed in among Eddie’s usual selection of lady folk singers and easy listening, because he’s slowly broadening his musical horizons. _Missing someone tonight,_ the caption says, simply. There are no tags, but the post is dated at being from only thirty-two minutes ago. Richie comments with his lurker account.

 **discogarbagedisposal** tsk tsk its past your bedtime

Eddie’s never been a great sleeper, though he’s definitely more motivated to try and get some shut eye when Richie’s available to snuggle with. When that won’t cut it, it’s plenty enjoyable to sit up late with some music, Eddie with a word puzzle, Richie with some writing or his Nintendo. They footsie and slowly droop into the middle of the couch together, all evening. Missing those cozy nights is what makes Richie sorriest about being away. Eddie should have a more reliable source of company, after spending so long alone.

Richie browses down to some older posts, lingering especially on the one in the kitchen with the coveralls. It really fucking blew up thanks to Bev. Loads of heart-eyed emojis confetti the post. While he revisits some other favorites he gets a comment back.

 **betterdreamsandplenty** commented: It’s too quiet. I’m used to you raking up the coals.

@betterdreamsandplenty zzzZz (i had to use grandpa google translate to decode that i hope youre happy)

@discogarbagedisposal I will be when you come home.

@betterdreamsandplenty wish you were here too. tuck me in?

This method of communication is a little unwieldy for Eddie’s liking, so he DMs Richie instead.

_How was your show?_

_really good_

_i was nervous about some of the rewrites fucking with the energy in the middle but it was like even better??_

_That’s great. I want to see you again, soon. I love seeing you perform._

Richie has got to convince Eddie it’s okay to loosen up with an exclamation point now and then. It makes everything he says with his customary, uptight punctuation seem either super serene, or super direct.

_haha you’ll get sick of that real quick i promise_

_No. I want to see you right now_.

Super direct to his dick! Richie moans into his pillow.

_i wanna kiss you goodnight_

_turn the lights off and take off both our glasses and just feel our way back together_

He waits a little while for a response, hopefully because Eddie is closing down shop for the night and getting into bed. Mayhaps undressing? He can hope.

_You could follow the sound of my voice._

_mmm. what are you saying?_

_I’m here, Richie. Come to bed. Kiss me._

Richie takes a sharp breath. Here goes nothing. _can i do more?_

Since the thing with rockinbodtodd they haven’t had another threesome wander into their unsuspecting DMs. They might give it another go, Richie thinks, but seeing as they wound up ghosting Todd in the middle of things, it seemed kind of douchey to angle him for a repeat. Either way, it’d be lying to say Richie hadn’t been hoping that next time he was on the road he could get Eddie to sext him one on one.

 _What do you have in mind?_ Eddie asks. A green light.

_i find you in the dark and kiss you_

_your hands touch my face_

_and theyre so pretty so perfectly made_

_That sounds nice._

_i want your fingers in my mouth_

_since im not there can you do that for me?_

_Yes_

Richie spits in his hand and shoves it down between himself and the mattress.

_suck them_

_I am_

_good for touching_

_try it_

_Yes_

_feels good?_

_Yes_

He can almost see Eddie laying in their bed, one of those elegant hands of his wrapped around his dick. Too involved to do more than stamp out three letter answers with his other shaky hand. Wanting Richie from two thousand miles away.

“You need me to sleep, don’t you?” Richie huffs to an empty room as he humps. “Need me to make you come.”

 _is it enough?_ he asks Eddie.

_No_

_I want you_

_want you too blondie_

So much. So fucking much. It’s perfect agony to keep focus on what he’s typing through his yearning. He feels stretched out, about to burst for how bad he wants this.

_i turn you over_

_put my dick between your legs,_ Richie types. He pulls his hand out of his pants just long enough to get it even wetter. He throws himself into his palm like a Slip n’ Slide.

_near your hole_

Richie squeezes himself.

_is that enough?_

_No_

As soon as he can get Eddie to say it he’s gonna lose it.

_tell me_

_whats enough_

He’s only ever heard it once from Eddie’s own mouth, the first time he took it up the ass for Richie. They did it sort of like this, face down, sandwiched head to toe, fingers laced together. Richie had his face in Eddie’s hair, his heart in his throat, and Eddie said it and he came so quick, so hard. He wound up having to finish Eddie off with his mouth.

_Fuck me_

_yeah_

_ill fuck you good honey_

“Hhn! Ohmygod,” Richie grunts into his pillow, spilling into his hand in fitful jerks. “Shit.” He lets out a ragged breath, flops over, and wipes his hand dry as fast as he can to be there for Eddie.

_you feel so good so full of me_

_you love it dont you_

_Y_

Eddie dropping his phone, head back, arching his slim body and wishing Richie was there to pin him back down. Keep all the pieces of him safe as he falls apart. Richie doesn’t expect to hear from him again until he’s finished but-

_Please_

_come for me honey_

_i got you_

_i love you_

He waits. He’s definitely sleepy. How nice would it be to kiss until they both dropped off...

_I love you, too._

_:D_

Good job, team.

Richie tugs at the covers of the bed and crawls in so he can hunker down for a little digital pillow talk. Since there’s no one here to gripe about him throwing jizz rags around he opts to free ball it, pulling off his underpants and kicking them out of bed. See? This little long distance arrangement could have all kinds of benefits.

_how you feelin?_

_Very good. That worked out better than I expected._

_well not to toot my own horn because its tired rn_

_but i like to think i picked up some tricks catfishing dudes on AIM_

He can hear the Eddie in his head sigh and add that to his research list. _  
_ _  
_ _I’ll have to look that up, I guess._

Richie grins at his phone.

_you finally sleepy now?_

_Yeah._

_im glad even if i cant take you on tour with me i can still take you to bed_

_Maybe soon you can._

Maybe. It’s kind of hard to think that far ahead. There’s kind of a self-imposed mental block there that has nothing to do with Richie’s exhaustion level. He’s nervous about seeing Eds again (and nervous about being nervous) in order to get the shit that’ll make traveling together possible in the first place, and then even _more_ nervous about what will happen when they eventually do try it. What if it doesn’t work? Jail for all three of them? Maybe they’ll all get bunked together and have lots of opportunity to sort out any awkwardness. _Ugh_. Well, whatever’s gonna happen, it’s not gonna get solved tonight.

“Just make a fucking joke already, Tozier.”

_yeah next time im on the road i can bring you and well text from across the bed ;)_

_Haha._

_i miss your sleepy laugh_

_Me too._

_I think I need to say goodnight, Richie._

_want me to snore you to sleep?_

_zzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZ_

_Ah, just like usual._

_gnight eddie  
_

  
  
-

  
  
The weather’s shitty in Chicago, so Richie spends a lot longer than he anticipated hanging around the airport in San Diego. He finds himself some lunch that sadly is not the Pequod’s pizza Eddie saved for him from last night, then completely neglects to eat it as he waits for a new gate. He can’t stop thinking about the whole Travel With Eddie thing, here. How’s a guy supposed to have an appetite under these conditions?

 _Ooh, Toblerones_.

Anyway. If sitting around doing nothing is already making him queasy, he should just lean into it, right? 

Richie opens an email draft. No chance of getting verbally derailed by Eds in the middle of an email.

Whuttup Spaghettiiiiii

Look, I know it was some really heavy shit finding out you didn’t die because a dude with your same name and hometown and home life and general biography but like, a Boomer, rocked up to save the day. It was probably also kinda wild to find out that I’d been in some secret love with you for thirty years! What do these things have in common you ask? I’m getting to that! Now, hear me out. You don’t have to worry about me being lonely forever because I’m eternally pining after your straight ass. Good news, right? You also don’t have to worry we can’t be friends anymore which is probably why you didn’t call me back for like, three months. We can be friends and I can be in love with the other Eddie instead and everything’s fine! Please don’t not do the ID stuff because of this.

Respectfully,  
Richie

Yeah, he cannot send any part of this, this is fucking coo coo for cocoa puffs right here. Delete delete delete.

 _Okay, Richie. Think._ The sooner he gets this out in the open, the sooner Eds can wrap his neurotic little brain around it, get over it, and hopefully be super fucking cool about it when he meets Eddie. They still have a week. How long did it take him to get over it that time in high school when Eds told his sister her prom makeup was pretty? Two months? Except it’s not really comparable. There’s no jealousy involved. Not unless Eddie is worried about the way Richie feels- _felt-_ about Eds. Ah, fuck. They should probably talk about it at some point, just to put the whole Richie/Eds thing to bed. Figuratively.

Over the next hour more gates are announced, but not his. His lunch is still uneaten. The weather hasn’t changed. _Nothing_ will change until Richie makes it happen, he’s pretty sure.

He has to do this.

He tosses his soggy sandwich in the garbage and finds a patch of hallway where people are too busy rushing to pay attention to whatever kind of conniption he’s about to induce in himself.

“Okay, slugger, you got this,” he says, hopping in place like a boxer at the heavy bag. “You tell _hundreds_ of fucking strangers at a time that you lost count how many dicks you sucked sometime in the high forties. This is just one non stranger and one _particular_ dick. And you don’t even have to bring dicks up, bro! You can just say- we’re dating!”

A woman pushing her elderly charge in a wheelchair gives Richie’s frantic gesticulation a passing side eye.

“You wanna switch?” He calls after her. “I’ll push that thing so fucking fast you won’t need the plane!”

She hurries along past him, and finally, he dials.

Maybe Eds won’t pick up, wouldn’t that be lucky? No, wait. He _needs_ him to pick up. Right, right.

“Hey Richie!” answers an unsuspecting Eds.

“HiEdsIhavesomethingtotellyouandifIdoawholefuckingpreambleaboutitI’mnotgonnagetitout.”

He snorts at Richie. “What’re you on fucking _Cash Cab?_ Take a breath, dude. In and out.”

Richie does. “Yeah, yeah. _Sure_. Breathing, I’ve heard of it.” Fuck, is this how it feels to be Eds? Being told to do your most reflexive bodily function all the time? “I, uh. Have something to tell you.”

“Will it take longer than forty-five minutes?”

No way, he’ll have a heart attack long before that. “I don’t think so.”

“Then shoot, Rich.”

He looks up at the screen for Departures again. Chicago is still TBA.

Richie rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Uhm. So, the thing is...” Breathe in and out. “Eddie is my boyfriend.”

There’s silence for a moment. “Oh, uhm. The one. That you live with?”

Richie’s empty stomach gurgles like the pump for a koi pond. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown that sandwich out. “No, Eddie fucking Van Halen. I’ll get you tickets.”

“Fuck you if you don’t.”

“ _Not really!”  
_  
“I know that! I-” Eds makes a noise that’s not at all a word. “I just don’t know what to say.”

Neither does Richie. Buhhhh. “Do you like, have any questions?” he tries.

“...Since when?” Eddie ventures, voice thin. “Since you told me... about him?”

Well, that’s about when Richie started seriously considering it, but parceling it all out for Eds is a _fantastic_ way to accidentally tell him he blew Eddie in the bathroom of a dive bar while he was being airlifted to a bigger hospital. “Uhh, we’ve been together for a month. More? Hard to say? You know how blurry it is when you’re about to- well maybe you’d don’t, but-” Richie pauses his rambling. “I’m really happy with him.” That’s the important take away. He’s happy and Eds, being his friend, should be able to latch onto that if nothing else.

“So-”

“So?”

“He’s- he’s gay? The other Eddie?”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Grain of salt, if you’re worried about a late life conversion. Word is, his original Richie was such a poon hound he had to get a vasectomy. _And it reversed itself!”_

“How do you even figure that out- _no_ I don’t want to know.”

The Departures board begins cycling through an update.

“Well, uh- it sounds like I’ve left you with enough to chew on for now, haha, uhm.”

Well, would you look at that. Chicago, 25A.

“Uh.”

Richie starts bouncing on the balls of his feet again. “Hey, Eds, my gate just got changed, I gotta fucking skedaddle, dude.”

“Yeah, fuck. Uhm. Run. I’ll let you know my flight info later.”

“Peace out cub scout.”

  
  
-

  
  
There are people who don’t like doing the dishes, and that’s fair. There’s the germs thing for those who are so inclined, for sure, and some textures are super gross. Richie’s been known to puke at the sight of pudding bones, and yep, that made getting his tonsils out a real treat. So, his philosophy is that dishes are a necessary evil that’s better faced head on before that shit has a chance to congeal. They can even be a little fun sometimes. Especially when there’s someone to tease.

“Hey old man, back in your day-”

Eddie neatly folds up his sleeves. “This oughta be good...” Although there’s plenty of room on the drying rack, he takes up a towel at Richie’s elbow.

“Did your mother make you take your dishes down to the river to wash with lye?”

“Yeah, me and all the other little urchins, in our pinafores and bonnets.”

“I fucking knew it.” Richie hands off a plate and goes in for a pint glass next. “Hold your breath, Eddie.”

He puffs out his cheeks gamely, but looks at Richie with a legible _Why?_ etched between his eyebrows.

“I was home alone once while I was in the middle of a Good Son kick,” Richie starts to explain as he scrubs the rim. “I dunno, I think I was trying to convince my parents to put me on the roster for car time or something, but anyway. I was doing dishes without being asked, washing a glass just like this and-” Richie pops his lips. “Broke right through my knuckle.”

Eddie grimaces. “Gosh.”

“Took like, all the skin right off. Looked like the wrong end of a chicken leg.” Richie holds his breath himself as he sticks his hand in to wash out the inside of the cup. “Phew!” No harm, no foul.

“Still gives you the willies?”

Richie shudders as he rinses. “Well _you_ know. I’m a little accident prone.”

He hands Eddie the glass to dry, but he puts it aside on the rack. He gathers Richie’s hand into his, inspecting it like he did when Richie ate shit on the ice a few months back. Eddie pats off the wet and rubs the pad of his thumb at a particular knuckle.

“This one?”

“Yep.” There’s a C shaped scar around the knob of it, like a moat around a castle. Not as gruesome as the scar Bill had once given him, maybe, but more lasting.

“Well you managed to keep the skin! Did you go to the doctor for it?”

“Nah, Eds patched me up. He lived pretty close by, so I ran over with my bloody dish rag. His mom _loved_ that.”

Richie can remember her screeching through the bathroom door, telling Richie to leave, to take his sick, filthy blood with him and never touch her baby again. It was too much, too close to his fear that Eds would push him away if he ever knew what Richie was. Richie wanted to go, to duck out the window and disappear into the Barrens to bleed to death. (Admittedly he was a bit of a drama queen.) But _Eds_ , cool and methodical in that moment- he told Richie to stop, so he stopped.

“Well, if she was anything like my ma...” Eddie sighs, turning Richie’s hand and working his thumbs into the meat of his palm. He frowns, but not at Richie.

“She had him convinced, half the time. We were gonna infect him with AIDs or make him suffocate or some shit- but then he’d break through it when you needed him to. Everytime. Maybe he was scared, but Eds’d be in there, in the fucking blood, helping. He-”

He’ll show up. He might be disgusted with Richie at the same time, but he’ll be gentle with Eddie like he always is when someone needs help. He’s good like that. One of the best. Richie didn't feel the way he did about him for nothing.

“-He’s a really good guy, considering,” Richie concludes simply. He doesn’t have to tell Eddie about crazy moms.

“I look forward to meeting him properly,” Eddie smiles up at him, still kneading Richie’s hand in his own. Is this how manicurists get all their gossip? He feels tranced, and maybe like he's said more than he meant.

“Yeah, he’s a riot,” Richie says, and pulls his hand back. There are still utensils to clean. “Anyway, tomorrow I’ll be done with the recording people by ten, so, plenty of time for me to swing back here and then we’ll go to the airport?”

“I could pick you up if you need?”

“No way, I’m twice your size, squirt!” Richie grins at some cutlery.

Eddie picks up his towel again. “Well, you just let me know who needs a ride, when.”

“Right-oh! Twice around the park, Jeeves,” says the British Guy.

“Oh, so _that’s_ the voice you’re going with for the recording,” Eddie smirks.

“Nah, see- I was hoping if I put a sorta Waylon Jennings stank on it, _Produce Queen_ would top the country charts. You know-” Richie clacks two soapy forks together to a beat. “ _Thick ol’ carrot or a stuh-ringy bean, that’s the way ah keep it clean-_ and then! _Then_ I make it a crossover hit by doing the eurotrash club remix.”

Eddie holds out the towel to receive the forks. “I think I’ll hold out for the instrumental version.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Eddie chuckles. “I listen to your voice all day, all night!”

Richie plunges an eyebrow at him. “You’ve had enough of me, then?”

“I’m full up.”

“Hmph!” Richie leaves the last of the utensils and shuts off the water. “Maybe I should be more withholding.”

“ _You’re_ going to put a sock in it?”

 _Zip!_ Richie only nods and wipes his hands off on his pants.

“I suppose scarcity does drive demand...”

“Mmm yes, _demand_ me.” Oh for fuck’s sake. Ten whole seconds?

But Eddie folds Richie into his arms before he can suffer too much disappointment. “You really held out, there,” he teases. “Inspiring conviction.”

“Ahright then, ya wise guy,” Richie kisses him. “No serenade for you.”


	2. #gaysofinstagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art for Chapter 2 by me! stitchyarts on twitter and tumblr.

It was supposed to be a first pass at a track with someone who knows more about scoring music than Richie, just to get it down on some sort of hard copy. He was honestly expecting to plunk around by ear on a keyboard for an hour and call it a day, then get back to the apartment. Then he floats the country song idea and Maritza, his composer friend, mentions she has a banjo in her car and he can’t very fucking well say no to live banjo! She shows him her chops with 'Rainbow Connection', so naturally he breaks out his Kermit and all hell breaks loose. By the time they’re sitting down to do the recording they intended to do, Richie realizes how late things are running, so he calls Eddie to rearrange plans.

“It wouldn’t be weird for you?” Richie worries. Those headphones he was wearing earlier must have been too tight because he’s starting to get a headache.

“Picking up a stranger at the airport?” Eddie asks back. “I’m okay with that.”

Oh yeah, right. That thing he’s spent the past twenty years doing. He wouldn’t put it past Eddie to have a whiteboard stashed in his trunk in the event of needing a name sign.

KASPBRAK meet KASPBRAK

“Yeah, but- it’s Eds, I should be there between you two as like, a buffer in case it causes a paradox and rips open a hole in the universe, right?!” Richie glances back at Maritza who’s blithely making some notes on her iPad.

“I spent at least twenty minutes with him, getting to the hospital in Derry,” Eddie reminds him. “It’ll be all right. I have his number, you give him mine- we’ll meet you back at the apartment.”

Richie sighs. Any additional time he spends obsessing about this is just making him even later. “I- okay. I’ll catch up to you guys as soon as I can. Thanks, Eddie.”

“Don’t worry about it, Richie. We’ll see you soon.”

Before he puts his phone away, Richie texts Eds Eddie’s number with an update that he won’t make it to the airport himself.

“Aghh!”

Maritza plucks a string on her banjo. “You good?”

“Not really, my boyfriends are- _is-_ my boyfriend is picking up my-?” Richie searches for the applicable term. “Who the fuck knows? Let’s hit it.”

  
  
-

  
  
It should take half an hour for baggage claim, assuming Eds checked a bag- and let’s be real. Richie has seen the way that man packs for an overnight. The words _apocalyptic_ and _survivalist_ come to mind when describing such levels of over-preparedness. So half an hour for that, then half an hour from O’Hare if there’s no traffic. Richie checks the time on his phone again. _Late_. But! Richie told them he was running late himself, and since it’s lunch time- maybe they figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop and eat? He should eat. It’ll give him something else to do, and the second you get wrapped up in a task, the company you’re waiting for always shows up, right?

One very luxuriously crafted grilled cheese and jelly later... nothing. He puts on a show Eddie doesn’t particularly care for that he’s fallen behind on, but watches his phone instead.

He could send another text. He’s already sent one to Eds _see you soon!_ and two to Eddie _im home where you at?_ and _are you guys still at the airport?_ No response.

It’s an hour past when they should have been back. Then two. Finally he gets a message back from Eddie. _Sorry, my phone died at lunch._ _Be back home in half an hour._

If they could stand to have lunch together it must not be going that badly, right? Eddie couldn’t hurt a fly, so unless Eds has finally snapped, stolen his phone and is now coming here to put Richie out of his misery once and for all- things are looking up! About 50% of his anxiety releases and Richie melts into the couch until he hears the sound of the lock.

He jumps up and opens the door, pulling the keys and knob right out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie, standing in the hallway alone, with a manilla envelope.

Richie feels his face fall, only now realizing how hard he’d been grinning, anticipating seeing Eds again. “Uh, where-?”

“Richie-” says Eddie, reading his expression and matching his disappointment. He herds Richie inside and closes the door behind them. “He decided to stay at a hotel.”

“Is he... Is he okay?” All Richie can think is that he’s suddenly fallen ill and quarantined himself. “What’d he have for lunch? He’s- he thinks he has these stupid allergies, but it’s all in his head.”

Eddie takes Richie’s arm. “He's fine. He just asked for some space.”

“But he talked to you. For hours. He- he wants space from _me_?” Still. The months of breathing room they’d already had wasn’t enough. Richie feels hot, somewhere between shame and anger. “Then why the fuck didn’t he just mail the IDs!? Why’d he fly all the way out here? I would have given him your number, and you two could’ve left me out of it!” Oh, it’s _definitely_ anger.

“Richie-”

He tightens up, arms ramrod straight, fists clenched, and stalks away. Maybe this was always a possibility, but faced with the sudden crash of his expectations, he feels just like he did all those times before. When Eddie left Derry first for college and never called when he got to his dorm. When he died in Richie’s arms. When he came back and finally Richie could tell him everything he’d held back and it _didn’t fucking matter_.

“I’ve been fucking wrecking myself over this for _weeks_ , and he can’t even text me back?” Richie fumes.

Eddie follows him and lays a hand at his back. “Richie, listen. You two have been through a lot lately, anyone would be upset-”

Richie rounds on him. “He doesn’t get to be a fucking bitch about me being with you!” he shouts. His hands are shaking. “ _He rejected me!”_

“Hey! Cool it or take a hike!” Eddie shouts back. “Whether you're upset with him or yourself, you’re yelling at _me,_ right now.” He turns away and tugs on his hair, face pale. He’s an uneasy version of himself that Richie hasn’t seen since they first met, back when they first realized what kind of mixed up IT bullshit was going on. When they were hurting and scared shitless and both in love with other people and too stupid not to realize what a bad time that was to-

 _No no no_.

“Eddie, don’t-” Richie shrinks. He wants to touch Eddie and make it right but he doesn't deserve that. “I love you! I- I love _you_ ,” he pleads, at a loss. He is the scum of the earth for putting a look like that on Eddie’s face. He shouldn’t have to be in the crossfire.

Eddie drops his hands to his sides again. “I know that. But I know you also-” Eddie cuts himself off when he sees Richie flinch. “But _whatever’s_ going on, you have to talk to _him_. When you’re both feeling better,” he says gently. He’s being far too understanding and it’s _killing_ Richie.

“Maybe we shouldn’t. We’ve barely seen each other since we were kids. We- maybe we don’t even know each other anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s the case. I’ve heard him talk about you.”

He can’t listen to this. Richie needs to distance himself from Eds, not have Eddie pushing them toward each other. Apparently he still feels... _something_ there, but it's not going to be reciprocated ever and it's not worth throwing away what he has with Eddie.

“I’m sorry I’m all... fucked up about this. I’m gonna go for a walk to cool off. Like you said,” Richie tells him.

“Good idea.” Eddie nods in agreement, but catches his hand before he can pull away to go find his keys. “C’mere first,” he says, drawing Richie in.

His fingers creep up Richie’s arms and up his neck as he brings their mouths together in a kiss. His hands are cool on Richie’s skin. Soothing. He shushes Richie with his lips when he tries to apologize. _Sorry- honey- I love- I love- I love you._ When Richie stops trying to tell him things and listens instead, each kiss is an answer. _I know, sweetheart. Me too._

“Go for your walk,” Eddie says, stroking his cheek. “Then when you come back we can pick something fun for ‘Edward Kleiner’ to do to celebrate getting his papers.”

Richie smacks his forehead. “Shit. I forgot about that, that was really fucking self-absorbed of me.”

“A little bit,” Eddie agrees.

“Sorry, again.”

“I know. It’s all right.”

“When I get back we could check your credit score,” Richie suggests. “That could be fun.”

“Or apply for a part time job at Home Depot,” Eddie smiles.

“Drive to Toronto?”

“We could be there by midnight.”

“Genuine Canadian poutine,” Richie hums. “Finally, some fresh content for my Insta.”

  
  
-

  
  
It’s a weight off Richie’s shoulders, not constantly having to look over them. He can name drop Eddie if he likes, and he never knew how fucking nice it could feel to put another surname, even an adopted one, on the mailbox next to his own. They do the big things as soon as possible, like get him on insurance and find him a dentist (Dad would be so proud), and open a bank account where they can rehabilitate his finances. They make some frivolous plans too. Since they didn’t get arrested at the border last week, they get Eddie a flight out to Florida for part of Richie’s tour. In the midst of all this, Eds tries to call a few times, and Richie always simply texts back _i can’t talk to you right now._ He’s too busy!

Richie makes Eddie breakfast in bed on the first Sunday morning he’s been home since they got together. It feels special, even though they’re both pretty irregularly scheduled people and the days of the week are sort of like a restaurant in the neighborhood that they’ve never been to, but has a distinctive enough sign to mention when giving others directions. Eddie accepts his humble offering of pancakes and bacon all propped up in the pillows looking like a prince.

“Would sir prefer the orange juice or the cranberry?” Richie grovels.

Eddie pouts at the tray he lays in the middle of the bed. “You already poured!”

“One of each, I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

“I’ll take the cranberry. Thank you.”

Richie turns around again. “Oh fuck, I forgot the fruit!”

“Aw, don’t go back to the kitchen. It’ll keep for another day.” Eddie pats the bed and takes up his plate. “I hope you didn’t fry this bacon without a shirt on.”

“Oh,” Richie looks down at himself as he slides back into bed. “Nope, I ditched it _after_ I spattered myself with boiling grease.”

“Good,” Eddie chuckles. He does love to kiss everywhere that Richie is a little soft, stomach especially. It should follow that he’d be a little protective.

After they eat, Eddie insists on clearing breakfast so Richie can have his shot at a lie in. He puts some stringy music on low in the living room and tidies up the kitchen a little before coming back. He must not have looked too hard at himself in the hallway mirror on the way back and forth, though. All his hair is still sort of puffing to one side, curling like a meringue. 

“Look at you, all bedheaded and fed,” Richie giggles. “Where’s my phone? This is epic volume. Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Eddie pats his hair and pulls out the drawer to unbanish their phones before climbing back into bed. Once he’s in, he immediately lays his head on Richie’s chest and snuggles up. “Get us both in there.”

“Tongues out, right?” Richie licks his lips. He raises an arm to get a nice high angle and at the last moment turns to kiss Eddie’s nose.

“Ugh, slobber!” he laughs.

“Well you made me drink the orange juice, Eddie, you did this to yourself.” Richie checks the photo and realizes his arm drifted just a bit, cutting off the top of his face, but it’s still adorable. Eddie and his dessert-like hair, grinning into his kiss. He texts it to Eddie for his own keeping, plus a kissy emoji, a nose, and heart. The works. “You could post that, if you wanted.”

“Gee, you’re really feeling your oats this morning.” Eddie checks the picture for himself. “Are you sure?”

“Well, it’s not my whole face,” Richie points out. Eventually they can pull off that band-aid, but they’re both aware that it's A Step.

“There’s no rush on that,” Eddie assures him. “I’d like to post this, though.”

“You’ll finally show your followers you’re not a spinster,” Richie snickers. “What’s the caption? Cryptid sighting?”

“Lazy Sunday?”

“Bo-ring!”

“Just like a lazy Sunday should be,” Eddie declares.

It turns out not to be so boring, in the end, since Eddie’s post winds up getting them laid by another Instagay.

  
  
-  
  
  


Ernst Von Bohr has only two passions, meticulously completing a map of the world, and ignoring his First Mate’s insinuations that he’s in love with their stowaway. That’s the endgame, though, so Richie won’t worry about that until he fills out the rest of the Pacific Ocean. So here he is, riding the D-pad, looking for Tahiti in the middle of Welles Park on the first vaguely warm day in months. His trusty little Xebec zips east to west, up a few knots north, then west to east and back again.

“Oh fucking _finally_.” Richie throws down his anchor beside the island and checks how his supplies are doing.

Eddie chuckles nearby. When Richie rolls around to see what he’s up to, he grins at him over his phone. “Don’t let me interrupt you!”

“What?”

“And you think crosswords are boring. You’ve been staring at a blank screen for twenty minutes.”

“Well, yeah, the ocean is huge!”

“I admire your sense of dedication,” Eddie admits. He picks up his water bottle and book of crosswords so he can rearrange himself, laying on his stomach next to Richie on their picnic blanket. He’s really been tearing through his puzzles today, which he insists on doing in ink (Richie has never seen him make a mistake). He puts aside his phone to tap his pen at the next clue while notifications on a new post roll in.

Richie puts down his DS to snoop on his own phone. The latest from betterdreamsandplenty is a behind the shoulder shot of Richie playing his game, with the lawn and impressive gazebo in the background.

 **betterdreamsandplenty** @discogarbagedisposal thinks he’s funny. I said it was too nice out to sit around playing video games inside. #WellesPark #Chitecture #gaysofinstagram

“Are you cyberbullying me for being a gamer, old man?” Richie peers at him suspiciously. “I’d expect a little bit more solidarity. I’ve seen you on sudoku apps, you know.” He looks down at his phone again to reply in his own defense, but someone else has already beat him to the honor of making the first comment.

 **projectisoscelees** @discogarbagedisposal How the fuck are you playing UWNH on a DS?

Huh. Richie would have expected the Venn diagram of Eddie’s followers and people who know a twenty-five year old Nintendo game on sight to look like an unskilled drawing of boobs. Maybe this dude found his way here by the tags.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees bought an r4 emulator from china B)

Then he taps over to projectisoscelees’ profile. Under a hundred followers. No selfies. About two dozen pictures of city architecture, all of which have some strong triangular shapes to them, explaining the username. Kinda neat, actually. He can’t identify the locations off the top of his head, but they’re probably tagged, if he were to look closer. He’s got another notification, though. Richie tosses projectisoscelees a follow before he taps back over.

 **projectisoscelees** @discogarbagedisposal Nice. You playing Ernst?

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees what can i say im a romantic. right @betterdreamsandplenty?

Richie rolls over onto his back so he can catch Eddie’s eye and make smoochy noises at him. He gives Richie a crooked little smile as he reads his comment and cranes over to drop a kiss on him before replying. 

**betterdreamsandplenty** @projectisoscelees @discogarbagedisposal I think so. ❤

“Wow, an emoji? From _you?”_

“You’re worth it.”

 **projectisoscelees** @discogarbagedisposal Remember when that game first came out and you had to pull out a fucking globe to check longitudinals?

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees haha yeah i think i used a beach ball globe i won in a raffle? tbh i would not be playing now if i couldnt just google it

 **betterdreamsandplenty** @projectisoscelees @discogarbagedisposal What’s wrong with a nice globe?

 **projectisoscelees** @betterdreamsandplenty You know what? Nothing. I kind of wish I had one, but my ex was a decorator so I didn’t really have control of that.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees “ex” can’t hold you back anymore dude live your truth!

 **betterdreamsandplenty** @projectisoscelees True! I’m sure you deserve the world, even if you’re keeping @discogarbagedisposal glued to a screen when he’s supposed to be enjoying the outdoors.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @betterdreamsandplenty aw, grandpa!

Richie flops his arms wide and stares up at the blue sky, full of perfect clouds that look like they came straight out of his kid self’s drawings. It is a beautiful day, but he wishes it was summer already. He misses what it was like to be outside then, when he was a kid. Not needing a jacket, and catching the smell of someone grilling somewhere in the neighborhood, and waiting for the lightning bugs to come out. Having absolutely nothing better to do but be with his friends. Richie sighs.

"Come here for a bit," he says, and pulls Eddie into his arms. 

  
  
-  
  
  


“Anyway, how’s Ben?”

“Begging me to go sailing, now that the weather’s getting warmer,” Bev reports. “You guys should come check out the boat some time. It’s pretty relaxing, and you know me, that's not in my vocabulary.”

Bev is the busiest bee Richie knows. She’s self possessed which maybe some people would _confuse_ for relaxed- but really. She’s always thinking, always working, always on guard. Well. Not so much that last one, lately. Having people she can trust around her has been good.

“How many people can this boat fit?” Richie asks.

“Well, it only sleeps two people overnight, unless you’re all really good friends- but if we just want to hang out for a few hours? Six? Eight?”

“Oh,” Richie says, unable to disguise the downward tone.

“We don’t have to invite _everybody_ ,” Bev assures him, knowingly. “Not all at once.”

Richie really doesn’t want to be trapped with Eds somewhere where it’d be so very very easy to drown himself out of embarrassment. “That could be cool, though. Sailing.”

“He’s cheered up, you know. He was kind of off for awhile after he went out to see you guys but I talked to him a day or two ago and he’s bounced right back.”

Richie wouldn’t even know where to begin to engage with Eds being ‘bounced back’ from breaking his heart a second/third/thousandth time, so he doesn’t

“Hey, Bev. Did you ever play Uncharted Waters: New Horizons?”

It’s a stupid question- he knows she’s never been much for video games, but it gets her off the Eds track. They meander around the topic of games related to boats in general, and make a pact to buy a copy of Yahtzee for their eventual outing. He should start keeping an eye out for something terribly cliché to wear, too- a polo and a tennis sweater and some Sperrys! He’d look just like-

_Oh for fuck’s sake._

  
  
-  
  
  


After a day of hanging out at the theater looking at lighting cues and gobos followed by a night boiling under lights and gobos, the last thing Richie feels like doing when he gets home is looking at a little glowing box, so he misses the post until the next morning. He reads it while Eddie vacuums, nudging him to lift his feet so he can get to the carpet underneath.

A globe sits on a dark wood shelf. It’s one of those antique ones, with raised continents and mountain ranges and seas the color of parchment. The sphere is held in place on its metered bracket by fussy little brass spindles that match a neighboring device- an old fashioned sextant.

 **projectisoscelees** Thanks to @betterdreamsandplenty and @discogarbagedisposal for putting this idea in my head #cartography #globes #gtfomercator

Eddie must have seen this hours ago when it was posted, because he’s already commented.

 **betterdreamsandplenty** That looks terrific, where did you find it?

 **projectisoscelees** @betterdreamsandplenty I was just walking around a different direction than usual to take my daily pic and wandered into an antique shop on a whim.

 **betterdreamsandplenty** @projectisoscelees Sounds fun. I haven’t been to an antique shop in a dog’s age.

Probably not. Last time Eddie wanted to buy decades old furnishings he just went to Sears. The vacuum is still going, too loud to tease Eddie about it, so Richie chuckles to himself and taps in his two cents.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees oh dreamy loves antiques. hes drooling. now youve done it. there goes my day off...

Eddie turns off the vacuum and bends over to unplug and wrap the cord. This happens to present one of his most fantastic angles, so Richie drops his feet back to the floor and bides his time patiently. Not that he’s trying to hide it, but Eddie catches him staring dopily when he turns back around.

“Did you ever notice how sexy cleaning the house is?” Richie muses. He’d been living alone for so long until recently, never an audience to the housekeeping, so this is perhaps an overdue realization. After all, how many millions of French maid costumes get used and abused every year?

Eddie narrows his eyes at Richie as he passes to wheel away the vacuum to the closet. “I used to religiously buy Brawny over Bounty for the mascot, so- yes.”

“A Big Tough Towel, indeed,” Richie raises an eyebrow. When Eddie circles back Richie wags his phone at him.

“What?”

“D’you think that triangle guy is flirting with us?”

“I think your proximity to my new found fame is going to your head.”

“Ooh. _Powercouple_ ,” Richie realizes.

Eddie chuckles and back down on Richie’s phone, there’s another comment. Does this guy still have his notifications on? Exhausting.

 **projectisoscelees** @discogarbagdisposal Take your man antiquing it won’t kill you.

Hmm. What was this guy's deal again? He has a decorator "ex" (aka _Hello, I'm single_ ) and now he’s telling Richie to take Eddie out on a date? Perhaps making frivolous purchases to impress? If that’s an accurate read, this is definitely flirting. This is practically courtship. 

**betterdreamsandplenty** @projectisoscelees @discogarbagedisposal Yeah, Disco, what he said!

“Hey!” Richie snaps around to Eddie, leaning over the back of the couch just behind him. “Ganging up on me!”

“Well?” Eddie asks. “Should I get my jacket? Maybe we’ll find that rotary phone you keep threatening to buy me.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Just a minute.”

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees @betterdreamsandplenty ahright ahready! but you better split any buried treasure you discover with your new toys since they were our idea

  
  
-

As Eddie’s tour guide to the future, Richie has always taken his cultural education very seriously. Who else was going to shy him away from boxy shoulder pads (Bev, actually) or fill him in on what new companies were worth investing in (oh right, his penpal Stan, duh!) or catch him up on hip hop and alt rock? And the broad strokes of history are important, sure, but someone has to catch him up on the local mythology, too. So at least twice a week, Richie has been sitting them down for a missed cinematic highlight, and over the past few months they’ve made it up to 1993. Unfortunately, for every _Soapdish_ and _City Slickers_ there’s a _The Age of Innocence_ , but finally- _fucking finally_ \- they’ve made it to _Jurassic Park_.

This one Richie has on DVD too, so he can make Eddie watch all the special features if he gets _really_ lucky. He hurriedly slots the disc into the player and then plops down next to Eddie on the couch and tosses up his heels next to Eddie’s on the ottoman.

“I haven’t seen you this excited since that ice cream place went on Grubhub,” Eddie observes as he smooths a throw over their laps.

“Well, I hate parking in the Loop,” Richie defends himself. Hmm, does he want some ice cream right now? No. Something savory, he thinks. “Wait, before we get started. Popcorn- Yes/No?”

As he thinks, Eddie takes a quick picture of their socked feet poking out of the cozy blanket and the DVD menu screen, glowing in the middle of a few candles that line the mantle below. “Sure, why not. With the grated romano on it?”

“Ugh, that's so sexy, _yes_.” Richie pats Eddie’s thigh as he gets up to sort that out in the kitchen.

He knocks around the spice shelf for some extra zest to throw in while the popcorn pops, and grates some cheese. He feels like he’s back at his parent’s in Derry, concocting the perfect snack to impress his buddies. Hey, since when does he have a thing of Old Bay? _Pow!_ He must have some left from the stuff Mom forced on him two Christmases ago. She always had the hook up on the yummy stuff, back in the day. While he's at it maybe he could sneak into the cooler in the garage and steal some of Dad’s beer for old time sake.

“You can hit it,” Richie says, coming back into the living room laden with their bowl and some drinks. Eddie hits play and flaps away the blanket to allow him back into their nest. “Here, hold that.”

Eddie takes over the bowl and his own drink. “You know, I think you might have been right?”

“That you need to see _Jurassic Park_ to become a complete human being? Yes, of course. Are you feeling more evolved, already?”

“Thought you said I was already perfect,” Eddie smirks. He tosses back some popcorn and nods at Richard Attenborough’s credit. “I have to make you watch _The Great Escape_ at some point- speaking of being a complete human being,” he says. “You can’t keep going around calling yourself an expert on blockbusters without it.”

Richie pouts at the disrespect and yanks back over the bowl. “Hey, I’ve seen like, seven different episodes of sitcoms that ripped off its plot, that should count cumulatively.”

Eddie laughs. “Is Lover’s Lane a two way street or not?”

“You tell me, dude, my generation’s mating ground was the mall.”

“I’ll add it to the movie list,” Eddie decides. He opens his phone again to make a note, and Richie sees the post he made of their movie date for a moment.

“Lemme see!” he says, taking Eddie’s wrist and squinting at it and the comment below.

 **betterdreamsandplenty** I've read lots of Michael Crichton but I’ve never seen #JurassicPark. @discogarbagedisposal is making the popcorn as we speak! #MovieNight

 **projectisoscelees** Oh shit, I saw that just came on netflix. You know what, I’m gonna watch too.

 **projectisoscelees** Also, HOW!?

“Damn, Isoscelees sniffing around again?” says Richie. “ _Eddie’s got a new boyfriend_ ,” he sing-songs.

“That’s what I was saying I thought you were right about.”

“That maybe he’s flirting with us?” Richie gives Eddie a crafty look. “I mean we’re hashtag _goals_. We’re so cute. And he doesn’t even know the half of it, he’s never seen my face.” Though he might only be interested in seeing the back of Richie’s head anyway, he thinks to himself. He gets kind of a toppy vibe off this dude.

“If he saw your handsome mug, there’d be no doubt at all,” Eddie says, leaning into Richie. He lays his head against his shoulder, undisturbed by Richie seizing his own phone.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees dreamy fell down a wormhole in 1990 and he’s only just now reemerged

 **projectisoscelees** @betterdreamsandplenty @discogarbagedisposal I can relate to that feeling.

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees are u watching JP?

 **projectisoscelees** @discogarbagedisposal Yeah, this movie rules.

“What if I... make a chat with all of us?” Richie asks Eddie.

Eddie pulls a face at his own phone. "You can do that on Instagram?"

"I assumed you'd figured that out by now, since you're blowing it up over here." Richie goes ahead and makes a three person chat.

_watch party?_

A moment later Isoscelees pops up. _Love to._

_where you at? lets sync up_

_Slice out your intestines..._

_were at six ft turkey. pause for like ten seconds_

_Copy that._

_Scene change?_

_yeah we nailed it_

"You coming in?" Richie asks Eddie.

"I didn't want to get in the middle of your calibrations," he laughs. 

_Hello Isoscelees. Hope you're having a nice evening._

_Thanks Dreamy, you too! Did Disco make enough popcorn for everyone_?

_That’s hard to say. What is “enough” when a self proclaimed garbage disposal is among us?_

“That’s right Eddie, I got a rep to maintain. I’m appointing you my brand manager.”

“Am I getting back pay for looking after your interests up until this point?” Eddie nuzzles his shoulder.

“You can have whatever you want.”

“Already got that,” Eddie sighs happily. “Now I’m tacking on extras just for the heck of it.” He keeps burrowing downward until his head makes it from Richie’s shoulder to his lap. Perfect for Richie to run his fingers through his hair as he gets into a grueling argument with Isoscelees about dinosaur insurance.

“Not staying to flirt?” Richie asks, when he notices Eddie has tucked his phone away.

“I do want to watch, you know!” 

“It _is_ your first time to the island, I guess. But I’ll let you know when we get around to talking about how _gorgeous_ you are, Blondie.” He ruffles Eddie’s hair.

Eddie does dip in again, here and there, when Richie cracks up at something Isoscelees has said, or he’ll tell Richie some wry observation to pass along, but mostly he leaves them to it. They get to know each other better. Isoscelees says he originally started up his Instagram when his therapist begged him to find a hobby. He goes for walks when he’s feeling stressed and takes pictures of the city (New York, Richie is pretty sure by the balance, though this guy definitely travels a lot) and anything else fitting his triangular theme. He’s a number cruncher trying to think less about work in his downtime, when Richie asks- and while he doesn’t try to wheedle out exactly what Richie does, he’s already osmosed that Eddie works on cars, which he thinks is really neat. More practical than most work, at the very least, Richie agrees.

_im seriously lusting after this jeep but my old man says no_

_He’s right!_

_i just wanna cruise around with some triceratops is that too much to ask_

_They’re both equally likely to kill you._

_but what a way to go_

Isoscelees asks some of the other expected questions and seems satisfied with the half truth answers Richie gives to the uninitiated. How’d they meet? ( _In an ER actually. A mutual friend was in an accident!_ ) How long have they been together? ( _Kind of on and off since the summer, but they’ve moved in together.)_ Eddie’s pretty transparent on IG- is Richie shy about putting his face on Instagram? ( _He hasn’t been out for very long and he’s not as pretty as Eddie. Baby steps_.) Isoscelees shares his own apprehensions about being recently out and changing his life, at which point Eddie weighs in, happy to be there for someone in the same position he was recently in. He really shines when he’s tending to others.

_dreamys a real optimist if you ever need a hit of that_

_If I am, it’s only since I met Disco._

_youre so nice to talk to babe_

_you always cheer me up_

_You guys are disgusting ❤_

They all really seem to gel, which is wild considering what weirdos Richie and Eddie are, objectively- but they’re all a little snarky, all a little sweet. Richie gets a sense that they’re about the same age too, since Isoscelees says he hasn’t rewatched this since it- and he- came out. He teases Isoscelees about his newfound attraction to Jeff Goldblum.

 _what uh, what, what is it that does it for ya, is, is it nerds?_ he electronically pfuffers.

_They have their appeal._

_well you hit the jackpot with me and dreamy then_

_I’m gonna tell Dreamy you said he’s a nerd, nerd._

“Eddie, you’re a nerd,” Richie coos, and pets his hair.

_beat you to it_

That gets Eddie curious enough to check in on them again. He rolls onto his back, peering up at Richie with a glint in his eye. The movie’s nearly over, and he must be thinking what Richie is thinking. This is going really well. Time to dangle an opportunity.

 _Name calling?_ Eddie tuts at them. _You two were supposed to be playing nice._

_im nice! this one here is just a bad influence_

_A likely story._

_uh oh he’s giving me the eye_

_Which one?_ Isoscelees asks.

_the “its getting late ;) ” look_

_Indeed it is. Isoscelees, thank you for the movie date. I think we’re headed off to bed now._

And at the same time- the same split second that Richie says _what all three of us?_ Isoscelees asks _Can I come too?_

Richie groans, a hot flush coursing through him. “This is gonna be a really good one,” he tells Eddie. He knows it like he knows whether or not he’s hungry, and boy, is he licking his chops.

Eddie taps out a quick _See you in three minutes._ and then rolls around and pushes himself up on the couch. “Yeah. I think he actually likes _both_ of us,” he says, and kisses Richie. He slides off the couch to go blow out the candles while Richie takes their empty bowl and glasses to the kitchen.

It is true that the last few times they tried a hook up, their third was almost exclusively interested in Eddie. Richie didn’t mind that at all, really. Everyone knew where to focus, including him. Maybe he was just a surrogate dick for them, but sometimes Richie likes being a passenger along for the ride- he always has to drive with Eddie otherwise. Not that it’s a chore to seduce him. It’s just that they’re a few months in now, and Eddie doesn’t ask for much that he’s not already getting, and when he does it's in the gentlest of terms. _Hold me, sweetheart, touch me._ And Richie does and it feels fantastic and he loves Eddie _so much_ , loves to make love to him- but he’d like to get in a hot, hair raising fuck in every now and again. That’s where he’s hoping their new friend can come in.

Richie makes it to the bedroom first and whips off his clothes, Eddie close behind, slinking his arms back into his shirt one at a time and smoldering at Richie. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Richie snaps a picture of their shirts and his pants, puddled on the floor and drops it into the chat.

 _Don’t suppose you’d take another picture for me?_ Isoscelees asks _._

_of what_

_Whatever you and Dreamy are comfortable with._

_do we get a pic back?_

_You'll get as good as you give._

He mulls that over while Eddie gets a chance to check his phone again. Richie can't send a picture of his face that’s... not gonna be a good thing to spring right now, but he does idly wonder what Isoscelees might look like. He trusts him more than the others already, but they didn’t send the others anything that identifiable or private, either.

“What do you think?” he asks Eddie. He won’t do anything without checking.

Eddie lightly pushes him back onto the bed and aims his phone. “I think this is fine for now,” he says, and shares a picture that spans from Richie’s navel down, an erection straining his underwear and one of Eddie’s hands gripped on his thigh. It’s fucking hot for how tame it is.

He scooches back up the bed with Eddie, getting all of his height in. Eddie lays down beside him and types as they await their returned favor.

_Disco has lovely legs, don’t you think?_

_The kind you wanna get between,_ Isoscelees agrees.

“Oh fuck,” Richie breathes.

Then a picture appears of another pair of thighs and some charcoal colored briefs, though admittedly from a very different, self-taken angle. Isoscelees is leaner built like Eddie, but more toned than either of them, and dark haired. A sturdy hand dips into the waistband, gripping his dick and pointing the head dangerously close to the top. If Richie just holds his breath it might peek out.

_eh ive seen bigger_

“Rude,” Eddie swats him. _You must keep in shape_ , he says for himself.

“It's called negging, old man. It’s how you get people hot and bothered like they got something to prove,” Richie laughs. He sends an apology. _sorry kneejerkoff reaction._

The next picture Isoscelees sends is much the same, but this time the same hand is removed from his briefs, flipping Richie the bird.

_thats hot lees_

_can i call you lees? isoscelees is kind of a thumbful lees is faster_

_If it saves you the time to get your fucking dick out faster, sure._

Eddie snickers at them. _You kiss your mother with that mouth?_

_Nah, I'd rather kiss you while Disco here is wasting my time._

_How do you like it, Dreamy?_

Eddie rolls onto his side, close to Richie, mouth hooked in a wicked smile. He presses a kiss to his shoulder and starts tapping away.

God this is the best thing that’s happened to Richie on a phone since Pokémon Go. One man being a little mean to him, another one about to gush? Unff. _Fuck yeah._ He shoves his underwear off and starts to stroke himself while they go back and forth and just reads.

 _I like when it starts somewhere other than the lips_ , Eddie tells Lees. _My shoulders. My neck. My hands. Disco loves my hands._

_You have nice hands. You should use them to pull me into the bed with you. I’ll kiss all the way up your body while I climb in._

_Yes please._

_Disco looks big. Does he hold you down while he kisses you?_

_Sometimes. Sometimes he lays on top of me and we’ll kiss and just move. We won’t even touch with our hands, and still..._ Eddie says, and he shivers a little beside Richie. His grip on his phone keeps shifting from hand to hand as he takes quick touches at himself, too. He’s still got his briefs on, stark white against the rapid flush that colors him from face to belly.

Eddie’s a little too delicate to say it, but Lees isn’t. _He’ll make you come just from grinding you? Couple of fucking teenagers._

Eddie laughs. _And the kissing. The kissing is wonderful._

_Bet Disco has a quick tongue._

_Almost as quick as you._

_Hey he's being quiet._

_Oh, he’s enjoying this,_ Eddie reports.

And how! Richie manages to tap out a shaky _holy fuck_

_Bet he’s gorgeous, working that dick._

_You should see him breathing heavy. That big chest of his. I love it._

_You like this, Disco? Me and Dreamy saying how hot you make us?_

“Fuck,” Richie puffs.

Eddie skates a hand across his stomach, cool on his fever hot skin. “Hey, how you doing, Richie?”

“I wanna- tell him I wanna come, so bad.”

“Okay, sweet thing,” Eddie kisses his shoulder.

_He wants to come for us, Lees. What do you say?_

There’s a pause as Lees must consider the options. Richie will take absolutely any of them, he’s so desperate for it.

 _Do me a favor, Dreamy?_ Lees asks. _Suck his cock for me. I’ll make sure he takes good care of you, after._

He doesn’t even respond to Lees, Eddie just immediately moves to get in place, discarding his phone.

“Oh my god I love you,” Richie laughs. He lets go of himself as Eddie takes over.

“You too,” Eddie muffles, kissing into the crease of his groin. “Love you so much. Want you to have everything you want.”

“Just want your pretty mouth, _fuck_ , please.”

Then Eddie is on him, sucking down, dipping him in delicious wet heat. His cheeks hollow as he draws him back out, his dick glittering from Eddie’s mouth. He taps the back of Richie’s hand, holding his phone face down on the bed. Oh right.

_Is he sucking you Disco?_

_yeah yeah omg_

_he like didnt even wait_

_he loves me so much_

_I know. You better be so fucking good to him._

_i will_

_promise_

_How are you gonna make him come?_

_i wish i could get hard again fast enough to fuck him_

Whatever he’s gonna do- “Eddie, Eddie- you better take your fucking undies off now or I’m gonna fucking atomize them when I’m through I swear to god I’m gonna be on you so fucking fast,” Richie babbles. “ _Please_.”

_Is that what Dreamy likes, or what you like?_

_he likes taking it any which way_

_fingers_

_tongue_

_toys_

_so do i_

_Does he ever fuck you?_

_no not yet_

Eddie moans on his dick as he touches himself too.

“That’s so fucking hot, Eddie, I love hearing you.”

 _Do you want him to?_ Lees asks.

_Do you want someone to stuff your ass and come inside you?_

_fuck_

Richie can feel the sweat pouring out of him and he feels empty. He wants to get fucked so bad. He wants someone grunting and moaning with the effort of filling him up. Eddie doesn’t seem particularly inclined to top him and he hasn’t had the nerve to ask. He knows Eddie would do it for him, he’d do _anything_ for him, but he wants him to _want_ to do it. To _need_ to be inside Richie the way Richie needs to be inside him, like he’s visiting Eddie’s fucking soul.

 _is that an offer?_ he asks Lees. Even if it’s just a moment’s fantasy.

_Just wanna know what you two like._

_i like this_

_I’m sure you do._

_im really close_

_what about you?_

_i wanna know_

_I’m holding off until we fuck Dreamy._

_But I’ll be thinking of you too, Disco._

Richie tingles from head to toe, but especially in his belly. “Eddie, _oh!_ Fuck, fuck,” he whines. He drops his phone and rushes his hands to Eddie’s shoulders. “Flip over. Let me come on you.”

Eddie pulls off and props himself up on one elbow. His chin is a shiny streak. “Oh?”

Richie hasn’t ever intentionally blown his load on Eddie, not because he’s ever explicitly objected so much as Richie assumes, again, he’d only do it for Richie and not for himself. But Lees has injected some kind of brash energy into the equation... Like he can be the star for a moment. What’s the worst that can happen? Eddie says no and he just splooges on his own stomach?

But he doesn’t say no. As soon as he’s asked, Eddie moves onto his back, arms welcoming Richie as he climbs over him and pulls his ass into his lap. He jerks himself through his orgasm with a sob and rubs his pulsing dick all up and down Eddie's taint, to his hole.

“God, _Richie_ ,” Eddie squeals as he pushes in a finger slicked with his own come. “Unnh yeah.”

“I know, love, I know.” Richie finds Eddie’s phone on the bed with his free hand and tosses it on his belly. “Tell him I’m taking care of you. Tell him I’ll take care of both of you, make you fucking come so good.”

Richie wriggles his knees back out from under him, never stopping the steady work of his hand. Like he said, it’s for both of them, now. He adds another finger when he gets down to the flat of the bed, and kisses the soft skin on the inside of Eddie’s thigh double what he might usually do before diving in on his cock. _Those thighs, muscled and thatched with hair even darker than his own._ Richie tosses one of Eddie’s legs over his shoulder and then swallows him down until he almost gags on that pretty pink dick.

“Can I- _holy crow_ \- can I take a picture for him?” Eddie asks. “It’s only the top of your head, he won’t-”

Yeah, unless this guy is specifically looking for Richie fucking Tozier blowing his boyfriend he’s not gonna recognize him by his fucking hair. And he wants Lees to feel included, because he made Richie feel included. He somehow nods his head in a way that is distinct from going to town on Eddie’s dick.

“You look so good,” Eddie pants, holding up his phone. He keeps still long enough to take and send the picture but then he writhes under Richie’s mouth.

He can tell Eddie’s trying to restrain himself, that he doesn’t want to choke Richie but he feels good enough that he _could_. Perfect. Richie hooks his fingers and drags at him, to see if he can make him buck recklessly, just the once. It takes a few tries. Eddie yelps as he tries to type something and has to give up entirely. 

“Oh god,” Eddie gasps. “Lees- says- trying to wait- but- can’t.”

 _Good_. Richie pops off of Eddie for a moment. “I want you to," he growls. “ _Both_ of you.” Then he sucks Eddie back down again. He wants both of them to get off on his mouth and his words as spectacularly as they just did to him. As completely. He keeps fucking Eddie, hand and mouth, heart and soul.

“Ohhh. Hgghk, Richie-” Eddie shudders. He comes down Richie’s throat in spurts, his body wracking as he does. He’s beautiful like a crashing wave capsizing a boat, and all Richie can do is lash himself to the mast. He stays with it until Eddie’s twitching thigh falls heavy over his shoulder again. He draws away, finally getting the whole scope of how much they’ve soaked Eddie.

He is _definitely_ gonna make Richie change the bedding, and it will be a fucking pleasure. May as well go for broke and wipe off his hand.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, shuffling up Eddie’s heaving, breathing body to get to his sweet face. Richie plants his still slick lips at Eddie's neck where he’s so hot that they practically sizzle themselves dry. “You’re so good to me. Was I good to you?”

Eddie nods and nuzzles his way around until he’s kissing Richie’s face. “Of course,” he presses to his brow. “God. That was really something else.” He sighs under Richie’s weight and paws around to find his phone, but it’s lost at an angle his elbow won’t allow.

“I got it,” Richie groans as he reaches. “Wanna kiss our date goodnight?”

“Absolutely. Get your phone.”

Richie shifts around so he can find it. He can see the last few messages between Eddie and Lees when he unlocks the screen again.

 _How does it feel_ , Lees asks in fragments, _when takes you deep like that?_

_Like I’m really alive._

_Fuck I cant wait_

_Wow. You guys..._

They’ve definitely got to do this again. Several times. Maybe like, _in person_ and shit, though that’s probably something to consider a little more thoroughly when he’s not high as fuck on serotonin.

_i regret that I have but one mouth to give for my country- nathan hale, patriot_

Eddie checks in.

_Thank you for the lovely evening, Lees. I had a fantastic time. I’ll have to let Disco say goodnight to you. I need a shower before I become glued to the sheets._

_That good, huh?_

Eddie looms over Richie and kisses him deeply before he goes. “Love you, Richie.”

“Never get sick of that.” Richie keeps him from leaving just yet. Kisses him again. “Say it one more time?”

Eddie looks down at him with those sweet brown eyes, as indulgent as their chocolate color. “I love you.”

He must. He really must to give him all this.

“I love you too, Blondie.” Richie pets Eddie's hair out of his eyes as he lowers himself into one last kiss. “Take your shower. I’ll clean up in here.”

He watches Eddie slip out the door, feeling so content in such an uncommonly found way, he could evaporate into a noble gas- whichever one was in shorter supply than the shit in MRIs. Krypton or xenon, he thinks. There’s something fucking elemental about this kind of happiness, for sure.

_You pass out on me, Disco?_

_could you blame me? you instafucked our brains out dude_

_Hopefully not so brainless you forget to instacall me back sometime._

_i don't think i could forget this if i got whammied by a clown demon_

Lees has no comeback for that, apparently, because it’s a fucking bizarre, not very funny joke. Richie wriggles his way off the bed and takes a picture of the wet spot before he starts to strip the duvet.

_expect a drycleaning bill this is dupioni you asshole_

_I’ll buy you a new cover if it won’t come out._

_badum ch!_

_I should buy you a new big boy bed too, that things fucking tiny._

Richie glances at his paltry full-sized bed. Cozy for two, untenable for three. You know... If that ever happened.

_i know i know ive only been regularly sharing it for like two months i gotta get a new one soon im just like never home long enough to get sick of it_

_That’s fair. I slept on a pull out for month after my divorce because I couldn’t decide if I should commit to something small and just fucking admit I’d be single forever, or not._

_thats bleak_

_what size you end up with?_

_Wouldn’t you like to know?_

More than Richie thinks would be wise to say. He sighs and heads off to wash his hands and steal the blanket off the guest bed.

There’s still an air of that tentative Will We or Won’t We feeling in the guest bedroom where Eddie once lived, even now that they’re together. It buzzes. It’s _potential._ Every time Richie crosses the threshold he feels it wash over him- except today. When he doesn't notice the change, he realizes that’s because he’d walked in already feeling it. He bundles the blanket into his arms, like the weight of it could anchor him to the ground, keep him from floating away.

Is this-?

No, this is different, this feeling. This new thing with Lees. Eddie’s a part of it. It’s even ground and neither Richie or Eddie will get left behind for some pre-existing _something_. And, say they _were_ to get a little attached to Lees... It’s better like, _morally_ to have someone fun and regular than it is to keep treating these hook up dudes disposably, right?

He remakes the bed and turns out the light, then crawls back in to another message.

_God I’m so fucking tired I’d take your wet spot._

_you should sleep. do you want big medium or little spoon?_

_Depends which one of us pees most at night._

_ill keep a tally and we’ll compare notes next time_

_Do you want a next time?_

_yeah :)_

_goodnight lees_

_Sleep tight._

He’s still smiling at his phone like a lunatic when Eddie swans back in from washing up. He holds out his hand to take it and plug it in, put away for the night.

“Glasses too, you big lug,” Eddie chuckles before climbing in. He pulls the fresh covers up and huddles in close where Richie can sling an arm around his waist. “You say goodnight?”

Richie nods, mouth opening and closing and opening again. He should get out ahead of this. And he really meant what he said tonight about how talking to Eddie always made him feel better. “I don’t want it to-” he starts. He pauses. He starts over. Eddie listens. “I really liked him. I would want to like, ‘see’ him again I think- and if that’s gonna be like, a problem I’d rather we just... stop now.”

“I really like him too,” Eddie says. He folds his hands under his cheek like the perfect picture of pillow talk.

“-But I _love_ you,” Richie says.

“It’s not a contest.”

“I don’t want it to be.” He’ll choose Eddie. He’s got the prior claim. It’s not like with Eds where there was all that complicated history. This thing with Lees doesn’t have to be a threat. “People do that now though. Like, couples will date a third person. Sometimes just for sex-“

“You know I don’t think we _just_ invented threesomes, right Richie? Which one of us was alive for the Free Love movement, mmm?”

Richie can’t help but laugh. “Right. Shit. I mean, I think as regular practice it’s mostly like, married straight people who suck so bad at foreplay they need a fucking sex toy with a personality but like- I don’t know. That’s probably a revolving door and I don’t want to end up back where I started, doing that, I just- _fuck_ , I don’t know.” Richie buries his face in his pillow and groans. He is not getting this out efficiently, but he knows Eddie will give him the space to air it out, anyway. “I’m not saying you’re not enough, but I worry- sometimes maybe _I’m_ not enough? I leave you alone _all the time_ and I’m an even bigger pushover and I’m never fucking serious about anything-”

Eddie scoops him back out and looks into his eyes very carefully. “You are enough, Richie. You’re _extra_. If anything we have love to spare.”

“Gross, that sounds like we’re talking about having a baby not a boyfriend.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “If it’s something you’d like, we could try dating Lees. _Romantically_ ,” he adds, really putting his finger on what Richie couldn’t.

“Like. A fucking ‘throuple’ or whatever?” Richie gulps. “If he’d even be into that...”

“Why not?” Eddie sticks his chin out and kisses Richie on the nose. “We’re cute. We’re hashtag goals, right?”

Richie’s heart flutters. “That word sounds just as ridiculous coming out of your mouth as I always hoped it would, old man.”

“I thought you’d enjoy that,” Eddie smiles.

“You were right. You’re always right.”

“I’ll take that in writing.”

Richie yawns. “I’ll call my rep first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” He kisses Richie goodnight and then rolls over.

  
  
-

  
  
The groupchat (‘hot noods’) with Eddie and Lees stays at the top of Richie’s Instagram inbox pretty consistently. They get past the possible expectation that they’ll only chat when they want to hook up within a day of the movie date when Richie and Lees start spamming memes. All three of them continue on alternately harassing and admiring each other in the comments of each other's posts, and within three days, Richie breaks down and sets a notification for projectisoscelees’s activity in his phone. They don't get down on one virtual knee and said the B word yet, exactly- but they sort of casually slide into it. They chat at least a little everyday, and wind up having sex again a week in. Eddie lets Richie take a few pictures as they fuck over the edge of the bed, and reads back every coarse word of Lees’ commentary to him until neither of them can stand it. It’s brutally hot. Then they double team Lees with tenderness until he admits that he nearly cried, and they all curl up for a postcoital decompression rom-com. Richie wonders to Eddie how long it will take Lees to ask why they’re oddly fixated on the works of 1993.

_whatcha say lees, sleepless in seattle or groundhog day?_

_I always feel so bad for Bill Pullman._

_i know, his only crime is having allergies and not being tom hanks_

_May we all be spared from such harsh judgement._

_You’re exempt, Dreamy._

❤

_hey! what about me_

_I’d throw you over for Tom Hanks in a heartbeat._

_impossible if youre fuckin heartless_

❤

_thank you_

  
  
-  
  
  


Richie doesn’t mind touring the Midwest so much (so many potatoes), or the southwest (quesadelicious), and being home in New England is eons more bearable than it used to be, but the Gulf coast? Eugh. After a childhood of choking down haddock like it was going out of style, the only fish he likes is tuna that has been on at least three conveyor belts, outnumbered on a cellular level by mayonnaise, pocketed in melted cheese, and fried in between some buttery ass sourdough. It’ll take forever to find a restaurant that doesn't reek of seafood after his show, and he doesn’t really want to get sucked into talking to fans because it was kind of a low energy crowd tonight anyway, so he ducks out of the theater and directly into a cab back to the hotel. He’ll get some room service and check in with Eddie at home.

Happily, it smells only of Febreeze as he dines on overpriced chicken fried steak and there’s a music channel on the TV that doesn’t totally blow. He sifts through some work emails and forwards what needs to be to his manager, and then with all his Business squared away, drops in on the chat, where Eddie and Lees are already hanging out, watching _Schindler’s List_ on their own fucking time, thank god.

 _this is a total boner kill_ , he divebombs the conversation.

_i cant believe this is what you two get up to when im not around_

_where are the ball gags_

_where are the assless chaps_

_It’s art!_

_any movie without a panning shot of a rube goldberg machine in it by definition cannot be art_

_Dreamy, does he let you have nice things sometimes or is it always like this?_

He can practically hear Eddie’s fond laugh. _You’re as bad as each other._

_Take that back!_

_You’re the one who nearly picked Wayne’s World, Lees._

_unbelievable_

_though if i came home from a long night of slaving over a hot microphone and found you two in bed together watching waynes world without me id be even more disappointed_

He’s got Lees half convinced he’s in an ABBA cover band ever since he asked why Richie goes by ‘Disco’. If it ever comes to it and he’s not ready to fess up who he actually is, he is prepared to sing the shit out of ‘Super Trouper’ over the phone. Even if he comes clean, he still might.

_Good to know where your boundaries are, since bursting in and waving your dick around while we’re watching Nazis doesn’t seem to be out of bounds._

_Maybe we could all watch something else. We’d be happy to pick this up another time._

_wait i have an idea_

_Famous last words._

_do either of you know how to do the instagram live thing?_

_No._

_No?_

_i swear you’re both a hundred years old_

_hang on i need to lock my account_

It's no hardship to boot all two dozen followers on his burner ‘gram that aren’t Eddie and Lees. Bev can hit him up on his public account if she needs to.

_I’m calling it now Dreamy, he’s gonna literally wave his dick at us._

_Are you complaining?_

_No I’m taking my fucking pants off._

_You still had them on?_

Richie’s breath hitches, whether Eddie’s teasing or not.

_were you two sitting around in your undies waiting for me to come take them off?_

Eddie sends a picture first, his slender legs stretched out ahead of him, clad only in some boxers with no discarded pants in sight. He thinks he recognizes the hem of one of his tee shirts, by the obnoxious color.

_mmm honey give that cute behind a hello pinch for me._

Lees has his feet up in front of the TV, too. His globe is just visible beside it, and his jeans are open at the fly.

 _What about me?_ he pouts.

_a spank for you_

_Figures._

In return, Richie starts up a Live video that only they can see. He rubs himself over his briefs and waits for them to join.

“Hey Frick and Frack,” he says as their little names appear. “Aw shit, I sound like Dreamy.”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** I’m rubbing off on you.

Richie laughs. “Wow, _you_ wanna start off the dirty talk tonight? Lees, we’re off the hook.”

 **projectisoscelees  
** It’s good to hear your voice _._

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

 **projectisoscelees  
** I already can’t wait to shut you up.

“Put your mouth where my mouth is and that can be arranged.”

Eddie experiments with pressing some buttons on this new screen, sending a floating heart up the screen.

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** Oh!

“You’re giving me a heart on,” Richie purrs.

 **projectisoscelees  
** I’m reporting and blocking you.

He loves it when Lees gives him a hard time over stupid little things, though. A little conflict is good for comedy. Lees shooting down puns and rejecting the use of pet names only makes it all the more satisfying when he relents.

“Geez, let me give you something to really get my ass banned for first.”

Richie spreads his fingers out over himself. If he’d have known this was the whim that would take him tonight, he would have got a manicure. It should be Eddie doing this, not him. Eddie sliding his beautiful hand down Richie’s thigh and up his stomach. Flicking his finger at the elastic of his waistband.

“So, what can I do for you? See how many quarters I can spin at a time? Cat’s Cradle? Close up magic?”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** I vote magic.

“I’ll need to summon my wand then,” Richie smiles. “I hope you know some magic words.”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** Please?

“Begging’s a good place to start.” Richie traces the very tips of his fingers along his length. “But this is Tinkerbell rules. _Everyone_ has to say they believe in fairies.”

 **projectisoscelees  
** Derogatory.

Richie snorts. “C’mon. I bet you were one of those little kids who sobbed.”

 **projectisoscelees  
** You’re projecting.

“Okay, fair, yes-“

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** Disco cries at everything.

 **projectisoscelees  
** Does he cry when he comes?

“ _Well-_ “ Richie’s voice cracks.

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** I guess you’ll just have to say the magic word so you can find out for yourself.

 **projectisoscelees  
**... Please.

Well that was handy. He loves it when Lees puts on his best behavior for Eddie, if only so Richie can tear it back off again. He chuckles and grips himself through the material of his underwear, making the head of his cock reveal its contour. He thumbs at the ridge and hums.

“I hope you folks are playing the home game,” Richie says. “Listening to me. Watching me touch myself for you. Doing everything I do.”

He strokes himself and takes their silence as dedication.

“I know I get wet when I do this. All desperate and needy. If I do it long enough, tease myself _real slow_ , do you know what happens?”

 **projectisoscelees  
** Tell us.

Sure enough, there’s a dark spot spreading at his tip where precome leaks. He lowers the camera a little closer so they can’t miss it.

“Dreamy, you know, honey. What’s it like? Don’t be shy,” he coaxes.

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** It runs all down you. Between your legs.

 **projectisoscelees  
** Fuck

“Thank you, honey. Points for audience participation.” Richie lets out a long exhale and slides his hand back up his stomach. He grasps his fingers at the lick of hair that trails there, pulling a little. “Is anyone else getting a little steamy? I think I might save myself the laundry...”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** “Myself”.

“You’re getting a real smart mouth since you started hanging out with Lees, you know that? Do you want me to take these off or not?”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** Absolutely.

 **projectisoscelees  
** Fuck yeah.

Richie lifts his ass off his seat and starts to pull, letting his dick pop free. He takes his briefs the rest of the way down his legs to a cheesy _tch tch tch chh_ that he hopes makes the guys laugh.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

 **projectisoscelees  
** I want it.

“I’ll bet you do.”

They've shared pictures, but this is the first time Lees is seeing his whole dick in motion, for sure. He makes sure to put on a good show, wrapping his hand around it, moaning a little as skin meets skin. He pulls up, making another bead of precome drip from his little slit and roll down the head. He swabs it with his thumb and sucks it off, sure to make the sound of his lips audible.

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** The way you sound

“Isn’t it nice?” Richie chuckles.

 **projectisoscelees  
** Oh yeah

“Should have done video sooner,” Richie realizes, getting breathier. “It’s almost like we’re together. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

They keep sneaking up on the idea with hypotheticals. Well, technically, this is _all_ hypothetical by nature- but saying things like _When I do this to you- When you get a chance- When we finally-_

_When?_

“You could hear- _ah_ , the way I sound. I could hear the way both of you sound. Gasping in my ear. _Fuck_. One of you behind me. One- one in front. Both your mouths on me. Mmnn. Me on you.”

Richie pumps himself faster now and his eyes close, lost in his imagination. He’s there with them, both hanging around his neck and tugging on his hair and he doesn’t know who’s who, not even himself as he becomes senseless between them. He wants to be filled and surrounded at every possible angle and not be able to remember, just for a moment, ever feeling alone.

“Fuck, I want you. _I want you here_. Just- just- _hhgod yeah_ -“

But he’s not alone. He shakes his head and makes himself keep watching the chat as he comes spectacularly for the camera. He’s already missed a bit of what they said while he wasn’t looking, but what he does catch makes his heart clench even harder.

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** We should talk about really doing this.

“Meeting?” Richie swallows hard. “You want to? All of us together?”

 **betterdreamsandplenty  
** Yes

 **projectisoscelees  
** Yes

They say it so certainly, so quickly. They want to be with him as urgently as he wants to be with them.

“Yeah, okay.” _Fuck_ , his eyes are watering. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cry.”

 **projectisoscelees  
** Knew it  
  
  


-  
  
  


  
Richie has never in a million years noticed or cared if someone unfollowed him on any social media platform. There are people he admires even, that he knows followed him at some point on Twitter that he _prays_ have long since muted him to spare themselves any further fart joke based trauma. One can only hope. Apparently, though, Bev had some kinda fucking radar for this shit, and within two days gets on his case about locking her out of his ‘friends’ Instagram. He tried to explain the broad strokes (hah) of what he was up to, and no- she is not accepting _I didn’t know you were so eager to get a reading on my meat thermometer_ as an excuse. The thing is, after he cut Eds out, she’s worried he’ll drop the rest of them too, and Bev in particular can’t take that. She already turned her back on most of her former life and acquaintances when she left Tom. Richie doesn't want to abandon her, so maybe he over-corrects.

Anyway, he stops off at DMK Burger Bar after a show in town one night, because there’s a new musical bit he’s trying out where he moves around _a lot_ and if he doesn’t cram some calories down his gullet right after he invariably winds up cooking a meal at 3am, waking up Eddie in the process. He orders the Angry Fries, in all their chili powdered, sriracha mayoed glory and takes a picture of them alongside the menu as is his tradition.

 **trashmouthllc** @bevmarsh got your fix? xoxo #dmkburgerbar #discofries #bevareyoureadingthisiloooooveyou

A peace offering.

He takes his sweet time eating his fries, because he has a couple notes he wants to make on some tweaks, and some wordings he doesn't want to forget. Then he looks up. His fries are cold and so is his blood. Richie has imagined things before, with and without supernatural intervention. He imagined that his college roommates all hated him, and that his parents didn’t want him to come around for holidays and he’d never work again if anyone ever knew what he was really like. That was all bullshit- he knows that now- but he’s not imagining _this_.

This fucking jackass. The squat, rednosed, neckbearded homophobe piece of shit that keeps turning up to his new shows when he’s performing in Chicago, sometimes to heckle, sometimes just to dick around outside making a scene at the entry line until venue security get involved. _Lying cocksucking hack_ and so on, nothing Richie hasn’t said about himself! But this is new. Following him somewhere else. Sitting a few booths down and staring at him. Did he follow Richie over from the theater? Wouldn’t he have seen him-

Richie glances at the menu still laid out of the table.

 **DMK Burger Bar** _2954 N Sheffield Ave_ printed right at the top.

And he posted it on his public account, _for fucks sake_ , that’s why he had shunted off his little lurker account in the first place! Rookie mistake, dropping his location while he’s still _here_. 

He should just leave, but he doesn’t want to stand around like an easy mark waiting for a cab in case this guys trying to catch him alone and honestly? He lives so close by they’re gonna be kinda ticked off with him for a nothing fare. He _was_ going to walk, but he wouldn’t want this dude following him to his fucking home. Especially not with Eddie living there, who, trusting soul that he is, likes to walk in the neighborhood and introduce himself to familiar faces he sees around the building. Richie hasn’t known so many of his neighbors by name since he was a kid! If this creep started hanging around and saw him leaving with Richie and got it into his head to approach him sometime when he’s alone and unsuspecting- Richie would never forgive himself. Or if he started digging into Eddie’s credentials? Can they withstand malicious investigation? Eds just made them to like, please the IRS and Social Security office and those chucklefucks pooched the Panama Papers. _This_ is exactly why they have to be careful about posting pictures on Eddie’s account. Anything could happen once they’re out and about, and Richie’s not always here at home to keep an eye out! Okay, he’s starting to freak. Legitimate anxiety attack approaching. Get an Uber and wait for it to call and say it’s here and then go someplace else before home and try not to completely lose it and puke in the back seat, meanwhile!

“Fuckfuckfuck.” Richie pinches at the worry-lines in his ever-expanding forehead.

He should just call Eddie. Get him to come pick him up. He won’t mind driving around the block a bit to placate Richie before they go home, and then he’d see him right away and know he was okay and everything will be fine.

Richie dials. Eddie picks up. There are multiple sirens in the background which is. _Not. Helping._

“Hey, Richie, sorry, I really can’t talk right now,” he says in a jumble. “There was a big pile up in Bridgeport-”

“Oh shit. You’re out with the towing company? Shit. Fuck.”

Even with all the commotion going on on the other end he must sound stressed out, because Eddie picks up on it. “Are you okay?”

Richie tries to wrap his hand around his phone and mouth in just such a way so as not to be overheard. “I’m just- I’m- it’s nothing, I’m freaking myself out about nothing, go do your thing?”

He almost catches eyes with Nothing.

“Sweetheart, if you’re freaking out, go talk to Lees,” Eddie says, wisely. “I’ll be home late.”

Richie nods. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Be careful on the road.”

 _Nope_. Do not add Eddie running around the side of a dark, congested highway with a bunch of smoking wrecks to your mental load, Tozier.

He lowers his phone again and deletes the post that kicked this off and then _very consciously_ switches accounts. As ever, ‘hot noods’ is lit up with notifications since that last time he looked, mostly Eddie and Lees watching some _other_ Daniel Day-Lewis snoozefest besides the ones Richie has already endured. The last few messages are Eddie, on his way out the door.

_Sorry, I have a work emergency. I have to go, but finish without me._

_Honestly I might quit too. But I hope everything’s ok!_

_Pile up. Lots of cars to tow._

_That’ll do it._

_Kiss Disco goodnight for me._

_Will do._

And here comes Richie, swinging in Miley Cyrus style!

_heeeey sorry you just got stuck with the talk richie down from hysterics shift but uhhhh i hope youre still around cause_

_i fucking need to talk to someone_

He reads that back.

_oh shit thats my actual name btw_

_richie_

Fuck, can he like, stop piling on himself for a second? He’s already jittering like Jessie Spano in a very special episode, and _now_ he’s gonna chug this can of worms? They should be revisiting their level of anonymity as an agreed, group thing. Then again, he’s gonna have to lay it all out if he’s gonna make any sense of what's going on for Lees right now. Normal people don’t pick up stalkers because they hastily posted some innocuous bullshit online.

_its uhm_

Is Lees even gonna believe him? Telling someone you’ve already fucked a dozen times that you’ve been secretly famous all this time is the kind of plot that strains credulity, right up there with the dictator of a South American micro-nation having a doppelganger take over his rule while he’s in a coma. Richie switches back over to trashmouthllc and sends projectisoscelees a request to DM. Let the little blue check mark do the talking.

_lees its me_

_disco_

Richie’s heart feels like it's gonna fall out of his butt. Who's to say this level of deception and possible exposure isn’t like, a deal breaker for Lees? They _just_ agreed to all meet up in person sometime, and so, sure- it was going to come up. But maybe Lees doesn’t want to be in some sneaky poly triad with a mid-tier celebrity. He’s just a regular white-collar dude trying to reestablish himself after a divorce without bursting into flames.

_Huh. Never heard of you._

_really?_

_All that mystery about your work I thought you’d be someone more impressive, gotta say._

_Obama’s speechwriter, at least._

_youre such a dick_

_Aw, is that all I am to you?_

_a hot throbbing dick yeah_

_Really, though. Famed/disgraced/famed again comedian Richie Tozier is one of my internet boyfriends, I’ll roll with it, dude. But what’s going on with you?_

_What’s wrong?_

_Is Dreamy okay?_

Richie types and types, letting everything out in one foul swoop. The waitress comes by and he agrees to a refill without looking up.

_i posted something i shouldnt of and blew up my spot and this fucking stalker dude followed me from a show to where i went for dinner near home and im scared hes gonna try and follow me home and dreamy will run into him one day and hell hurt him or worse and then i go to prison for revenge murdering this dude and then i guess youll never know what happened to your good buddies disco and dreamy hahahaaaaa fuckk_

He drops his phone on the tabletop and folds his arms in front of himself and ducks his head, sheltering the screen with his body and trying to breathe. 

_First of all, I’ll catch the Richie Tozier Arrested headline for sure. Cross that one off._

Richie snorts.

_Second through fifth, how crowded is this place? What’s its name? When’s it close?_

Without looking in a _certain_ direction, Richie scans the room and the reverse lettering painted in the nearby window.

_dmk burger bar. theres staff and two tables full of college kids besides me. closes at midnight_

_Okay, well you’ve got company and some time before you gotta go._

_Has he threatened you in public before?_

_hes been in my face after local shows a few times until we tightened up my rider_

_that wasnt specific about him though. just like. expectations for front of house to remove shitdisturbers_

_I can call the cops for you._

_no_

_i dunno_

The waitress, a thin older woman with a tired smile brings him another water.

“Uhm- thanks.”

“Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Richie really shouldn’t sit here generating bad energy for two hours for the price of fries and a burger. He _should_ get something else. “What about uhh- a number ten to-go? Two, actually.”

“Sure thing!”

If he ever makes it home, he and Eddie can make some chicken wraps tomorrow and hide in a couch fort until Richie gets his fucking nerve back. 

_i thought about saying something to the staff but i wouldn’t want him to blow up at them theyre just slinging burgers they didnt ask for this shit_

_i ordered some stuff to go so they dont think im a total asshole sitting here forever_

_You are an asshole._

_im kinda having a meltdown here you wanna lay off?_

_Nope. You won’t let me call the cops and you’re perfectly capable of getting an uber to whisk you away when you’re ready. My offering in these trying times is to annoy you until you are._

_fucker_

_Are there any stray straw wrappers on the table? I’m shooting a spitball at you._

They do this often enough, telling each other what they’re doing as if they’re in the same room, that it hits some kind of trip wire in Richie’s brain. He scrunches his nose at his phone and grabs his drink. Game on.

_ill spill my drink down your pants dont test me_

_Oh yeah, talk clean to me. Tell me what you’d do if I was with you._

_force you to try the aioli_

_I don’t like mayo._

_i said force_

This place has all kinds of stuff on the menu Lees probably wouldn’t touch. He’s always making salads when they ask him what’s for dinner, or disturbingly textured smoothies. You don’t get abs like that from cooking like Richie does, that’s for sure. Not that he’s condescending about it to them, he’s just had some health scares in the past and it’s easier on Lees to know his diet isn’t the problem if anything worrisome happens. Sometimes he’ll send a picture of a vat of protein powder in the morning to tease Richie into making Eddie a big breakfast spread inspired by sheer indignation.

They go back and forth for a while, the local food Lees absolutely must try, the heartburn they’re both going to get, the Walgreens they’ll hit up for some Pepto. That’s when Richie relaxes enough to order an Uber. He resists saying anything or flipping off his shitty little shadow as he leaves, because Lees jokes they could hold hands when he walks him home. On the drive, Richie tells him about the curb that you have to watch out for and which neighbor’s window has that super fat cat that Eddie calls Bub.

 _home again home again jiggity jig,_ he reports.

Eddie always says that at the door of the apartment. Somehow Richie can hear it in his head as clearly as he can hear _Kiss Disco goodnight for me._

_Are you gonna invite me up to look at your secret vintage scratch n sniff sticker collection, or what?_

Richie wishes.

_who blabbed?_

_Dreamy._

_dreamys got a big mouth_

Richie sinks into bed, home alone for the first time since he and Eddie got together, but- not really. Lees' familiar little icon peers down at him from the top of the screen. Two towering buildings that appear to touch, though in reality they’re far apart. They’ve hung out before, just the two of them. They joked around, and got to know each other, and ragged on movies all the time- but this is different, Richie realizes as the fog of his panic clears. The line between their two points of the triangle has been getting bolder and he doesn’t feel bad about it. Lees really cares about him- and Eddie, too, those two have always clicked so comfortably- but the intensity between Lees and Richie that started out like a friendly rivalry has definitely shifted over time. They’re becoming partners. They lean on each other- that's why Eddie said to talk to Lees. They _care_ , they don't just want each other physically, they want what's best for one another, above all. It would be okay if Richie felt something real.

_He says all kinds of things, you know._

_like what?_

Like when he told Richie that he and Lees are free to have sex on their own, if they like? Judging by what he saw of the chat between Lees and Eddie, it’s been discussed on their end, too. Richie extended Eddie the same permission, but realistically he doubts that’s where that relationship’s at.

_That I should kiss you goodnight._

_well i did let you walk me home some unwoke people might say im asking for it_

_Are you?_

_im twirling my hair around my finger and giggling nervously_

_What hair?_ Lees teases him. God Richie can’t wait to hear what his laugh sounds like, though he kind of already has one in mind.

_i dont make fun of your sexy lil happy trail_

_Because it's sexy._

_exactly. thats why im perplexed that youre knocking my egghead_

_You’ll be relieved to know I still want to kiss you. Even if you look like that._

_even if I still have sriracha breath?_

_Brush your fucking teeth._

_too bad! this is the trashmouth experience!_

Richie snickers to himself, waiting for Lees to give in, but then immediately folds like a deck chair at his prompting.

_Well? I’m waiting..._

He rolls his eyes and lumbers out of the bed to the bathroom. When he’s got a good minty lather going he snaps a quick selfie for Lees as proof. Okay _maybe_ it was the best out of three, in truth. He wanted to get the sneer just right.

_now what?_

_Now I want you back in bed where I can keep you out of trouble._

_thats a lost cause i AM trouble_

_Yeah you’re a real Walter White._

_you did imply i was balding_

_Classic misdirection. I like your hair._

_something to hold on to?_

When Richie lays back in the bed again he finds that his fingers really do end up twirling at his hair. He feels giddy.

_Yeah. But I want to hold on to all of you._

_is that to be taken as an awww or a mmmm_

Lees sends back a picture, chin down with one hand laid illustratively over his heart. It makes Richie wish he could climb through the phone and wrap himself up in that arm and lay his head there.

_aww_

_but also mmm that bod_

_i should take my shirt off so i can feel you_

_Let me._

_I want to take your clothes off myself._

Soon _._ Tomorrow he’ll plan with Eddie now the cat’s out of the bag. He’s got dates in New York coming up later this month, they could add some time to the trip and get Eddie a plane ticket. Then they could all get drinks or dinner or whatever people do when they first meet up with an internet flame to feel each other out before they feel each other up. He’ll get to hear the two of them laugh and flirt and it will give him the same shiver it does now. _I want to hold on to all of you._ They’ll take him to bed and cover him with their hands and kisses and bodies- all bare, yet the safest, most sheltered Richie’s ever felt.

For now, it’s just the two of them, but there’s nothing lacking in it. Richie wants this with Lees as completely as ever.

_do you take them off fast or slow?_

_Slow._

_Like it’s our first time. Like we’ve wanted each other for so long._

_mr romantic_

_ill remind you its been like ten weeks and weve been fucking like bunny emojis for all of them_

_but i have to admit its a nice sentiment_

Richie closes his eyes and takes off his clothes in inches, and it does feel right. He runs his hand across his chest, thinking of Lees’ in his picture. Unable to settle on just one part of his body. _All of you._ All of Richie under the touch of someone who’s wanted him for so long.

He opens his eyes again to a wall of text so long he has to scroll back up the page.

_Richie I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I think I loved you right away when we met, because it was hard to tell the difference, before and after, until I heard Dreamy talk about you and then I knew that’s how I felt. And you don’t have to say anything back. I know you love Dreamy, and me and you is different. Whatever this is is good. I know you’re loved and in love and whether or not you still have some left over for me, I’m happy. I get to talk to you every day, and like tonight when you needed someone and it could be me? That was better than anything else we’ve done. Somehow I get to be there, and make you laugh and feel as good as you deserve, and you make me feel that way too. If you do or don’t, I feel like I’m loved._

He has to read it twice to really take it in, and drops his phone on his chest both times. Meanwhile, Lees second guesses himself.

_Maybe I should have waited to say this in person._

_lees_

And then Richie has no idea where else to go but to try and lead the way down the tangled, messy path of the truth.

_i want to believe that i can love more than one person lees i really do_

_uhm_

_before we met_

Oh, here he goes. Soul baring in three... two... one...

_i had a friend i knew for like forever that i was in deep crazy love with. straight guy of course. so that didnt pan out and kinda crushed me and then i met dreamy because of him and like_

_i do really love dreamy but i still loved him too when we got together and that made me worry that i didnt. that i just wanted someone to love me since he couldnt. it took time to be sure_

Maybe Richie needs to put his pants back on and have this conversation over the toilet just in case his fries are gonna make an encore appearance. He’s pretty sure his legs would give out underneath him right now, if he tried to get up, though. This is some deep dark insecure shit that he can barely talk to Eddie about- he just lucked out that Eddie witnessed enough of it that he never had to spell it out this precisely. But now he’s in a relationship with Lees too, there’s no bones about that- and he _loves_ Richie and Richie has never never never had someone say they loved him first, and he knows how absolutely terrible it is to say it and not get it back. He _has_ to explain.

_so i guess what im saying is. im glad you said it now before we meet. i need to think about it for a bit and not just react. because i want to really mean it lees_

It definitely wouldn't be love, if Richie _didn’t_ overthink it and make himself nuts as squirrel shit over it first.

_but hey worst case scenario love isnt real anyway and we have a really really fucking good friendship paired with killer orgasms and caring a whole fucking lot and that aint too shabby right?_

_Yeah, that’s not bad at all :)_

Richie lets go of the windiest exhale of his life, relieved that he doesn’t need to go call every police precinct in New York and urge them to watch out for bridge jumpers.

_Can I ask you something?_

_shoot_

This evening can’t possibly be more gutting than it already is.

_Do you still love your friend?_

Maybe he spoke too soon. Fuck.

Richie taps at the edge of his phone, steady as a heartbeat. He thinks about the way he feels about Eds and Eddie and Lees, too, all of it like parts of a meal on a plate. Peas stuck in with the mashed potatoes, and gravy all over the place. It all goes down together in the end and Richie is... full, actually.

_yeah_

Maybe he hasn’t been such a good, loving friend lately, though. He should text Eds tonight before he knocks out in a few minutes. He’s too drained for this conversation to go in the direction that it started, any more.

_lees thank you for tonight_

_for everything._

_Yeah, no problem. I’m just glad you’re feeling better._

_You are feeling better right?_

_much_

_ill talk to my manager about that guy and be smarter in the future and like go to the mountaintop to think my thoughts or whatever but yeah. its thanks to you_

_i am kinda wiped out though_

_I thought you might be._

_Don’t worry I’m fine, go drool on someone else, sheesh._

_can i ask you something first?_

There’s a pause slightly longer than Richie can bear, and he worries Lees isn't as 'fine' as he says, and really just keeping it together until he can go lick his wounds in solitude.

_Yeah._

_did you already tell dreamy how you feel? how much cliffnotes am i responsible for here dude_

_Hahaha. Yeah, I told him. I tell him everything._

_does he know about your irrational hatred of barry manilow_

_Yes, and he’s still my boyfriend._

_your love is so pure_

They’re so fucking cute, the pair of them. Maybe their relationship isn’t as sexually charged as the one between Richie and either of them, but the way they understood and cared after each other so easily, the word ‘soulmates’ wouldn’t be out of place.

_He knows my real name, too._

_WHAT!!!_

Those little weasels!

_omg tell me your name right fucking now so i can practice moaning it for when we see you_

_Hmm, no._

_oooOoohhh [redacted] fuck me harderrr_

_Unff. But still no. This is way more fun._

_i hate you_

_Anyway, sweet dreams!_

_what the fuck!!!_

For how exhausted he was a moment ago, now Richie is wired. Electric. Flooded with light and twisted into a bright red word, flashing LOVE LOVE LOVE. He _does_ love them both and they love him. How does stuff like this happen? Is there some alignment of stars that funneled all this shit down from heaven for him as compensation for forty years of misery? Is it cosmically irresponsible to not be buying lottery tickets by the truckload right now?

He feels so invincible, he may as well capitalize on it.

-

**RT** hey eds. im really sorry I never called back or picked up. thats a crappy way to treat a friend. ill be in nyc for shows the 25-28th and hopefully we can find some time to catch up


	3. #datenight

Eddie comes back from his morning walk to fetch a newspaper and coffee and discovers Richie in the throes of repacking his suitcase. It's the third time now. First time, he packed for New York like it was any other weekend of work. Second time, he realized that since Eddie was coming with him, he could put his extra shoes and the conditioner (Richie maintains his stunning coif with whatever elixirs a hotel kindly bestows upon him, but Eddie has A Regimen) in with his own stuff and make the baggage weight a little more even. Then he remembers _why_ Eddie had nice date night shoes in addition to his regular kicks and has to start over with an entirely different suitcase.

He crams a stack of DVDs in one corner, the mysterious wrapped gift Eddie bought for Lees into another, and an adult shop’s worth of paraphernalia from end to end. Should he pack his contacts? No, that’s silly, right? Lees already knows he looks like a background extra from a horror movie set in a school for the blind. Instead, he tosses in the case with his backup pair of glasses with the wire rims just in case he wants a last minute option.

 _Options!_ Richie tears through his closet trying to locate some of the really top tier shirts that are so nice they’re almost too good to wear to work, and starts trading them out for the clothes he already packed.

“Do you prefer this or this?” he pauses to ask Eddie, holding up one button down with a contrast placket and another with a satined stripe. Both are from the Bev and Eddie Shop For Richie’s Big Gay Tour collection.

Eddie sits on the foot of the bed next to the suitcase and takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “First one,” he says easily. “Makes you want to unbutton it to see more of the color pop.”

“Is _that_ why you have like, six shirts like this?” Richie can definitely remember stripping Eddie out of a few, come to think of it.

“I’ve said too much.”

“Yeah, Mr. Fashion ‘Grammer. Job security.”

Eddie winks at him and hands Richie his own coffee so he can peek into the suitcase for himself. “You just threw in the underwear that was at the top of your drawer didn’t you?”

Richie glances at them, all tucked in. “Is there a difference?” He dives into his luggage again in a panic.

With a sigh Eddie gets up, crosses to the dresser and puts down his coffee so he can sift through. He pulls out a handpicked, elite selection and hands off the bundle to Richie’s chest with a smirk. “Some fit better than others.” His hands slide down to Richie’s hips and around back, giving his butt a playful pat. “It’d be a shame to play your understudies on opening night _._ ”

“Oh-“ Richie gulps. “I mean it’s the middle of the tour at this point, I wouldn’t call it _opening night_ , it’s a special- it's a big- it’s lots of, uhm people in the audience, for sure, but like, are they looking _that_ closely?”

“I shouldn’t pick on you, sweetheart, I can see you’re nervous.”

“Yeah, like, a little I guess, you know it’s a more sophisticated crowd than East Bumfuck, Michigan last week-”

“Not about the show,” Eddie says gently. He tightens his arms around Richie, locking him in and Richie relaxes into it, letting some of the clothing in his hands drop. “I want this,” Eddie says simply. “In no uncertain terms- I love you and I have no problem sharing you with someone who feels the same way, and who I really care for.”

He’s said it before, in different ways. Eddie has spoken about the bond he had with his Losers, and has said a hundred times that as long as Richie’s well-being is respected, he’s happy. Since agreeing they’d all meet, and telling Lees who he is, the two of them have talked it over amongst themselves and with Lees about how that first step would go, ideally. They’ll have drinks after Richie’s show and two rooms at the hotel. No pressure. Even if they’d still all like to have sex after meeting they might prefer to save the main event for another day. And Eddie wants Richie to have the space to be alone with Lees, if he likes, which- is thoughtful but probably unnecessary? But two rooms to start with is a good call, for sure. And then if it’s all going swimmingly with Lees, they can check out his apartment and maybe stay there a few nights. 

“Yeah, I just,” Richie draws a breath. “I don’t know how it's all gonna work, like _big picture_ work- if it _does_ work,” he admits.

Eddie smiles up at him. “Well, on average we’ve got at least _two_ real smarties between the three of us-”  
  
“I resemble that remark!”

“-But we’ll figure it out. There’s no clock on this,” he reminds Richie. 

“Yeah, but with my publicity-”

“Publicity will still be whatever you decide, when you decide it,” Eddie says firmly.

“And what if he notices you’re-”

“I always tell people I grew up with fundamentalists,” Eddie shrugs. He’s had to wave off some glaring blind spots to other people at work already. “And probably we travel back and forth for a while, and then maybe he moves here. Or maybe we find my old house in Great Neck and all live together there.”

Richie grimaces. “Oh, that would be fucking trippy.”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees with a put-on shudder and a squirm of his lips. “Even if my mother never actually lived there.”

“But what a way to get back at a Mrs. K of _any_ universe, boning two dudes under her roof...”

“She lived with me, not- never mind.” Eddie sighs at Richie.

He does love the idea of Eddie having someone to curl up with on the couch when he’s away. It’s already been a comfort to him to have a fellow insomniac in Lees. It could be perfect. And then Richie would come home in all his keyed up galumphing glory and Eddie would have Lees to lend him a little self assertion when Richie is being a dickhead, and they would both have Eddie’s softer touch to cool them down when they ran too hot. But he’s getting ahead of himself. They should see if they even click in person.

“But... You think he’d want to move in with us, eventually?” Richie asks. That feels like kind of a leap in logic.

Eddie tips up to kiss Richie. “You talked _me_ into coming home with you on the strength of a cold cut sandwich and a trip to the men’s room.”

“Mmm. And I’m not half as persuasively gorgeous as you,” Richie kisses back. “And wise. How’d you get to be so wise?”

“Like you keep saying, I’m as old as the hills,” Eddie grins.

  
  
-  
  


Richie texts Eddie from his dressing room before the show.

 **RT** have you run into him?

 **RT** is he cute?

But he doesn’t get a response back. Eddie’s pretty strict about turning off his phone in theaters, ever since Richie took him to some Broadway tour when he first came to Chicago and the person seated in front of them played Candy Crush throughout the performance. Even with all this tenuous planning going on (they don’t even have Lees’ phone number _why don’t they have his phone number?)_ there is apparently not an exception to the rule. Richie checks Instagram just in case there’s anything new, and there is. Another one of Lees’ rare non-architectural posts. But this time it’s not of home furnishings.

It’s him. His phone blocks out his face, sure, but he’s all there. The most Richie has ever seen of him, like, _metrically_ speaking. Head to toe, taking a selfie in a hallway mirror. He’s got the black hair Richie had always assumed from the rest of his coloring, combed back in a glossy wave and his crisp white button down is rolled to the forearms and tucked into some slim dark jeans Eddie would call ‘snazzy’.

 **projectisoscelees** #datenight

 **discogarbagedisposal** @projectisoscelees you better have posted this on your way to the theater or i promise i will make an example of you for walking in late ♥

He doesn’t get the chance to sit around and wait for a reply to that, though, because there’s a knock at his door. It won’t be him, not before the show- the staff here runs too tight a ship- but Richie’s stomach does a back-flip anyway.

“Hey, yeah?” He opens the door on a crew person dressed all in black, with a headset blinking by her ear.

“These are for you,” she says cheerfully, swinging two gift bags through the door.

“Ah, I can guess where these came from,” Richie recognizes. That means he’s definitely here. “Thanks, dude.”

Richie takes the bags to go investigate them with the remaining time he has before the show. They’re lighter than they look by their large size, with one bag checkered like a crossword puzzle while the other is as glittery as a bath bomb. _Ooh_. Too bad their hotel rooms don’t have a tub to fit three, but how nice would it be to have a swim in the pool later tonight?

He’ll leave the crossword bag to Eddie, but he digs into the sky blue tissue paper of the other eagerly. There’s a note card tucked at the top.

 _Just in case we have such a good time you forget who’s who.  
_ _X_

Richie draws out the item below, nearly as big as the bag containing it. It’s a pillow sham, made of dove gray cloth, and embroidered with silvery, looping letters, _disco._ He can guess exactly what’s in Eddie’s then. Damn, that’s a cute gift. Did Lees have one made up for himself, waiting at home? At the hotel even? Richie wraps his arms around the pillow and gives it a hug with a sigh. Too bad he can’t do his set like this, carting it around.

He does hit the stage with a spring in his step, though. It turns out the high spirits of performing while thinking _yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get spit-roasted this weekend_ are infectious. There are audience derailing laughs in places Richie’s only had titters before. He can’t pick out Eddie or Lees in the crowd with the lights, but they’re on his VIP list for backstage access for the weekend along with a handful of other friends who promised to put in an appearance. They’ll find him. Hopefully _after_ he changes and burns his sweaty shirt.

He hops around once he’s back in the dressing room, fanning himself off with his hands and chugging ice water before slipping into the shirt Eddie said practically unbuttons itself. He’s so nervous he can barely get it done up to begin with. Since he’s not Work meeting anyone tonight, so far it's just Steve loitering in the green room when he gets back out there.

“Hey, not bad for your first night in New York,” he calls across the space.

“Yeah, I figured if giving a hummer before a college open mic worked, then proportionally, arranging a three-way was the way to win over a major metropolitan area.”

Steve waves that off like any other dumb line Richie tosses out. “And I worried you’d come out and turn over a new leaf.”

“Ohh, just you wait until you hear what I’m cooking up next,” Richie claps his shoulder. Steve’s definitely going to deserve a bonus.

Manager acknowledged, Richie keeps on trucking toward the door through which any guests will be ushered. Any minute now. He checks his phone again but there aren’t any new notifications like he’s hoping for, on either of his accounts.

There’s a mumble of voices then behind the door, and a trickle of theater staff spill in along with Eddie.

“Hi there,” he kisses Richie’s cheek. He’s got a smile tugging from ear to ear. “I thought the show went great.”

“Yes and it’s _always_ that good!” Richie assures him as he hooks an arm around his waist and swings them both around. “Not just on nights when I know you’re gonna make out with me in the dressing room after,” he says, leaning in.

Eddie laughs into his kiss. “Richie...”

“Mmwhat?”

“Behind you.”

Richie lets go and turns around.

“Holy shit, Eds!” He agreed to come at some point this weekend, but Richie hadn’t wanted to prod too much at the specifics in case he got his hopes dashed again. “What, no flowers?”

“Didn’t you-“

“Nah, I’m being an asshole, same as usual,” Richie thumps his back. God, It’s such a rush to see Eds here, smiling to the point of dimple overflow, after Richie had been so sure he’d wrecked their friendship for good. “Thanks for coming,” he tells Eds. “It’s just nice you came to like, bury the hatchet. I appreciate it, man.”

His eyebrows pinch together for a moment, but his grin doesn’t fade. “Yeah, dude, I’m happy to be here.” Eds washes over sort of pink as Richie pulls him into a hug. “Hey Eddie!” he waves over Richie’s shoulder.

“Hello, again,” he says warmly. “You look great!”

“So do you.”

They hug too, and something about it makes Richie’s chest throb. “I uh, forget you two know each other.”

Eddie looks fondly at Eds. “Well. We had lunch.”

The expression Eds gives him back is unreadable.

“Right, right. That’s some _Twilight Zone_ reboot shit _,_ I’ll call my script guy later- how’re you doing?” Richie asks. Apparently they’ve got some time to kill before Lees figures out his instructions for how to get backstage. He gives Eds a quick once over. “You look like you’re totally back on your feet.”

Eds crosses his arms, which is just- a _fantastic_ look with his shirt sleeves rolled. He licks his lip, too, damn. “I’m doing really good. I haven’t had to talk to a lawyer in a month and my scars are fading in record time, so now my clueless doctor thinks I’m like, pissing fucking vitamin E,” he snorts.

Eddie chuckles at that, being a fellow beneficiary of whatever clown-adjacent magic nonsense is going on there. “And how about that new apartment?” he prompts.

“Eh, I’m thinking about getting out of New York. I figure- better do it before I go and replace all of Myra’s furniture,“ Eds reasons. “But at least I’ve got a real bed,” he adds, somewhat weightily.

Richie squints. “Uh yeah?” He’d assume after a divorce there’s a strong chance you’d need to buy a new bed. For a split second he thinks of asking Eds if he’s still alone in it, but he should bank his flirting for the people who’ll actually appreciate it tonight. Richie gives a quick look around the green room again in case he missed someone coming in while he was saying hello to Eds, but no.

“So,” Eds starts. “You guys wanna go get some drinks?”

Richie snaps back at attention. “We’re uh, actually waiting for someone.”

Eds hums. “Hot date, huh?”

“You bet,” Eddie smirks and drifts closer to Eds. “Richie, maybe you should wait around, and me and Eds here will catch up at the bar in the lobby?”

Richie stammers. “I- yeah, uh, I guess when I- we could come down and find you guys?”

“Great.” Eds holds out his arm to Eddie, who wraps his hands around his elbow. “C’mon Dreamy, let’s roll.”

Whatever cloud of idiocy has been hanging over Richie suddenly bursts and he’s caught in the downpour.

 _Eds_. Looking so fantastic in his rolled white button down. Here in New York. Redecorating after a divorce, with a real bed ready for pillows. Who he shut out of his life in a fit of self preservation _right_ before projectisoscelees-

It’s a joke- a fucking _geometry_ joke- two matching lines of equal length and absolute _dumbass_ Richie is the punchline, the odd third line completing the triangle.

“Eds,” Richie catches his other elbow and reels him back around before they can go. “You- _you_?” 

“ _Finally_.” Eds lets out a sigh of relief at the same time that Richie scoops his face into both hands. “Richie, what I said before- about not realizing. And then when I _did_ I’d already fucked up, and I loved you too much to not be your friend, at least- but you wouldn’t talk to me, and I asked Eddie to help and- and I thought you’d _know_ right away.“

 _I think I loved you right away_ , he had said. He loved Richie all along, young and old, and he loves him _now_ , stupefied and misty eyed.

“Shut up, you couldn’t tell the difference either,” Richie laughs, at himself, at Eds. Before and after loving Richie. Eds and Lees. They’ve both loved each other from the start, they’ve just had their heads too far up their asses to connect it all together without a little intervention. Then Eds meets his laughing mouth in the middle. The kiss is real for the first time, and although it's _new_ it’s not at all unsure. Richie wants this, Eds wants this and they’ve already said so more times than Richie can count, fooling around, saying goodnight, waking each other in the morning. It’s always been at least a little real, but now it’s fingers in hair and scraping stubble and he can _feel_ it- it’s _Eds_ , it’s been Eds all this time.

“Awkward,” Eds grins when they break apart. “You kissed me and my boyfriend is standing like, right here?”

“Yeah, he is, the sneaky Pete.” Richie kisses Eds again, quick, then drops his hands from Eds’ face, and holds one out to Eddie.

He’s looking exceptionally smug as he draws in close. Eddie slots in with them, each with an arm around the others’ middles. “That smoke screen might’ve worked a little _too_ well,” he says.

“You, you evil little mastermind. Six months on Instagram and you’ve catfished your way into-! He didn’t know what cybering was!“ Richie points at Eddie, mind boggling. “He hasn’t even seen _You’ve Got Mail!_ ”

“Yes I have!” Eddie surprises him, again. “I liked _Sleepless_ so much, me and Eds watched it without you one night.”

“Wha-” Richie gasps. “We’ve been an in person throuple for like, two fucking minutes and I already have to break up with you both!”

“Aw. Give it at least an hour?” Eddie pouts.

“Two,” Eds amends.

“I worked hard trying to make this all look like an accident, you know.”

Eds beams at his partner in crime. “Don’t worry, Dreamy, you can still come home with me if this idiot doesn't know how good he’s got it.”

“Dreamy?” Richie questions. “How come _Eddie_ gets to have a cute name? Does this mean I get to call you-“

“Fuck no. ‘Boyfriend’ isn’t good enough for now?”

“What about for me?... _Hotlips_?” Richie workshops. “That’s kind of a natural progression from Trashmouth.”

Both of them pull a snarl at him.

Usually Richie has to be drunk to see double like this. “Shit, no wonder you two munchkins hit it off.”

They’re going to kill him. Two Kaspbraks, scientifically calibrated by the universe to push his buttons? Oh, fuck, and now Eddie’s got his head on Eds’ shoulder and they’ve got a dark look in both their big brown eyes and he’s pretty sure they’ve got their fingers laced together behind his back, ensnaring him. Yep. He’s a dead man.

“Maybe, maybe we should, uhm?”

Eddie twinkles up at Richie. “What, love?”

“Spit it out, Tozier.”

Richie’s knees are weak. Can he? Can he sit please? Preferably with both of them in his lap? The couch in the green room is pretty big but not so private... “Oh sweet Jesus, this is gonna take years off my life,” Richie mutters. He nods his head back toward the dressing room. “There’s an excuse in the- _there’s a gift_ for Eddie in the dressing room. We should. Look at?”

Eds bounces his brow at Eddie. “Yeah that’s right. I have gifts for both of you, though maybe I’ll ask to borrow one back for a few minutes.” He turns back to Richie and smolders. “ _Knees_.”

“Youcanusemine,” Richie blurts and turns around to sprint to the dressing room.

  
  
-

After a dip in the pool, sliding against each other and lipping wet kisses, they do the same in the shower, and then the bed. None of them ever make it to the adjoining suite. The closest they come to separating is when Eddie takes a few minutes with the hair dryer while Richie goes down on Eds. He can hear Eddie chuckling in the background as he sneaks from the bathroom to his suitcase.

“You weren’t kidding,” Eds huffs as Richie better acquaints himself with the pubes he’s only seen in pictures. He scratches into them and gives a friendly tug hello while he sucks Eds down. “He’s really fucking good at this.”

Richie acknowledges the compliment with fluttering lick.

“I try to be honest.” 

Except for when a little trickery gets Richie out of his own way, of course. Given the results, that’s hardly condemnable. Ends, means, etc.

“You don’t need those,” Eds calls to Eddie, probably looking for some shorts. “We need you. C’mere.” One of his hands in Richie’s hair lets go to pat the bed. It shifts under Eddie’s weight as he kneels in and crawls alongside them, naked.

Eddie strokes a hand at Richie’s back. “What are you thinking, buddy?”

“I was just thinking how- _oh god-_ how we’re gonna tucker this guy out enough that he actually sleeps,” Eds says. “We already blew him once and look at ‘im.”

“He’s a real spitfire.”

Richie is proudly unrelenting, drawing the tight suck of his lips up and down Eds’ length. He wouldn’t want to make Eddie a liar, right?

“He’s _ahh-_ ” Eds gasps, unable to finish, but he’ll _finish_ all right, they all will if Richie has anything to not-say about it because he’s too busy chain smoking pole.

Eddie hums and cozies up into Eds’ shoulder. “I would like us to get some rest tonight,” he supposes. “I’d like to really make the most of tomorrow at your place. Spend the day spoiling Richie before his show. Then send him off so you and me can have a nice relaxing evening.”

“Perfect. We get to fuck Richie _and_ do dinner without having to watch his feeding time at the zoo.”

Eddie snickers. “Be nice!”

“I’ll be nice, _I’ll be so fucking nice,_ ” Eds’ fingers tighten in Richie’s hair. “Teach me to be nice.”

“I will.” Richie hears the soft meeting of their kiss. “I’ll show you how.”

He can feel it, Eds is so close. Richie grinds into the mattress sympathetically as he’s been hard pretty much nonstop since he recovered from getting blown at the theater.

Eds keens into Eddie’s mouth as his body shudders into Richie’s “Mmmfuck. Eddie.”

They sip on each other’s excitement, breathing ragged. “I’ll show you how to open him up, so you can have him,” Eddie promises and writhes against Eds. “He’s so sweet and soft.”

“Bet Rich luh- _loves_ your fingers.”

“Yeah he does. Come on, darling. Let me show you.”

“Show me how,” Eds whimpers. “Then I’ll fuck him so good.”

“He’ll _love_ that.”

Richie loves hearing these two in cahoots, _that’s_ for fucking sure. 

“Oh, Richie, baby,” Eds calls him, and Richie straight up chokes on his dick. “That’s- ssso good.”

He strangles his own moan as Eds comes down his throat. He swallows, hungry for his pleasure, hungry for him, and desperately hoping this isn’t all just talk. Richie pulls off, wiping his mouth and resisting the magnetic urge to suck back down either of the lovely cocks within a foot of his face.

“Do you want to- to- _tonight?”_ He wasn’t expecting things to get that far at first. His brain credit maxed out after imagining a round of blow jobs for everyone and then some experimental group cuddling, but it’s not like _he’s_ gonna be the one to throw the breaks.

Eds pets Richie’s flushed cheek. “Would you like that?”

“ _Ohmigod yeah_.” He kisses his stomach before he heaves himself back up to his hands and knees.

“Sounds like the votes are in,” smiles Eddie, laying back to the side. “Give Eds a chance to catch his breath and come here.”

“What about me? Do I get to breathe between taking loads?”

They laugh, his two guys. Music to his ears.

“Wah wah wah,” Eds mocks. “He wants two boyfriends but he doesn’t wanna take them for walks or fill their water bowl. Now I know why your parents never let you get a dog.”

“Wait,” Richie says, groping for an opportunity. What better time is there for bargaining than right after blowing someone who’s been in love with you for thirty years for the first time? “What would be the vote on us getting a dog someday?”

Eds and Eddie look at each other, in unison. “You are the dog.”

Richie whines. “What happened to being nice to Richie?”

“That’s later,” Eddie grins. “First be nice to Eddie.” He shuffles over so Richie can get a knee between all these extra limbs in the bed and squirms happily as Richie repositions himself between his legs.

“Work work work,” Richie huffs, but it's a pleasure. He runs his hands up Eddie’s thighs and bends to lap at him, already hard as rock just from watching and kissing. Kissing _Eds_ , which Richie didn’t even know he could count on happening but sure as hell is into.

“How’s it feel?” Eds asks as Richie takes him in, tongue toying at his head like he likes. “His mouth already nice and hot for you?

“For both of us,” Eddie breathes, and Richie knows, it really does make them happy to have him like this, that they revel in having someone to love him with. This can work, this can _really_ work. He sinks deeper and fucking hell- he can’t wait until he has the chance to take them both deep like this, he loves them both so fucking much.

Eds rolls onto his side and lays a kiss in Richie’s hair before wriggling up further. “Richie told me all about you, Dreamy,” he says, planting another kiss on Eddie’s stomach and then his chest. “Says you’re delicious. And sensitive.”

“Oh?” Eddie shivers under another kiss.

“Like you don’t know he can’t shut up about you,” Eds laughs. “Except for right now...”

Richie hums around his mouthful, guilty as charged. Eddie his prince, his golden oldie, his funky lil’ greasemonkey, dreamy dreamboat. He’s so proud to adore him. 

Eddie adores him right back. He combs his fingers into Richie’s hair, gently. “I dunno I sort of miss it when he’s not running his mouth. But you sure pick up the slack.”

Richie peeks up as Eds circles his tongue around Eddie’s nipple, getting it wet before blowing a cool stream of air at it. Fucking note stealer. This is Algebra II all over again.

“Eds,” Eddie sighs, and Richie is _obsessed_ with it. They both keep lavishing him with their mouths, all over, and Eddie keeps making these shallow breathed little pleas, to Richie, to Eds, and Lord Almighty, of course. “Oh, please, please, I want it,” he sobs.

“Want what, Eddie?” Eds asks, but he doesn’t get a sensible answer. He drops a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Move over. Let me help.”

Richie slides back off of Eddie’s dick. “Wha?”

“Move a little.” Eddie shuffles down until he’s level with Richie and shoves him a bit so he can get in the zone. “Don’t tell me you’ve never shared a microphone before, Trashmouth.”

Not as a euphemism? Then Eds’ hand covers Richie’s, wrapped around Eddie, and he leans in to get an exploratory lick as they stroke him together.

“Oh, so like, you’re _both_ evil geniuses,” Richie says, getting the idea. “Gotta admit, it’s really workin’ for me.” Hopefully they’ll pan out to be Hollywood brand sympathetic ecoterrorists or else devote themselves solely to the captivity of just one Richie Tozier.

He angles in and meets Eds at the head, their tongues overlapping. This is a kiss and sex somehow superconcentrated into just a few cubic inches like dark matter and it fucking _rocks_. Richie trades out his right hand for his left on Eddie’s dick and sucks his fingers, now drenched in both their saliva. He circles his fingertips at Eddie’s hole and feels it flare at his touch.

“Eddie,” he mouths at his shaft. “Let me in, honey.” He bucks hard into Eds’ mouth as Richie pushes in. Richie hooks right into the center of him, where Eddie wants it, _needs it_ , and he’s gonna give it to him. “Show us how gorgeous you are when you come, Blondie. Let me show you off.”

“Oh, oh fuck,” he sputters. “ _Richie, more_.”

It really is a blue ribbon day, all tied up like a present. Richie caresses him inside and kisses his thigh, his cock, and Eds, sucking him off. They swap back and forth, their combined effort never tiring, and Eddie shakes beneath them too overwhelmed to do anything but take it.

Richie keeps pumping into him. “Love you like this. Love you always.”

“ _Uhhuh_ ,” Eddie moans. “Oh, oh hell, I’m- I’m-“

“Yeah, we want it, honey, come on.”

Eddie shouts, and with a few final wracks of his body he spurts on them both, lips tangling at the top of him. Richie licks Eds’ mouth clean and then they both climb back up Eddie’s trembling body.

“Kiss me,” he asks, and they do, all over.

Richie pulls Eddie, loose and liquid into his arms and Eds crowds up behind him, folding Eddie into the middle. “Thank you,” Eds kisses at his neck. His hand finds Richie’s arm where it’s wrapped around Eddie’s waist. “Thank you _so much_ for this.”

Richie sighs. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Eddie huffs a weary laugh into his chest. “What for? You’re the ones who just made me see stars.”

Richie sticks his nose into Eddie’s hair, and yes, he appreciates the conditioner and the hair drying, fussy as it is. He smells sweet and happy, silky soft, like he makes Richie feel. “We wouldn’t have any of this without you, Eddie. You saved Eds, and let’s be honest, you saved _me-_ and then you brought us all together.”

Maybe this started years ago with just Richie and Eds, but now he’s as precious as any of them with his beautiful, wide open heart.

“I- I had to,” Eddie says. He lolls his head to look at each of them, his expression so earnest it hurts. “I can’t help but love you both.”

Eds nuzzles Eddie’s shoulder and Richie looks just in time to catch him wiping a tear off his cheek. “I love you too, Dreamy.”

“And you say _we’re_ sappy.”

Eds glares at Richie over Eddie’s shoulder. “Fuck off, we’re bonding.”

“Ah, there you are. I get worried when you go entire minutes without telling me to go fuck myself.”

“You can’t, we already called dibs.”

Eddie giggles and sighs, relaxing in their nest of limbs. “Boys...”

“Uh oh, Eds, you’re in for it now.”

“ _Both_ of you,” Eddie says gravely.

Richie thrills from head to toe. “I literally have goosebumps, fuck.” He shifts around to rub his dick into the warmth of Eddie’s body.

“Oh you.” Eddie runs a tender hand up his chest and neck, coming to rest at his cheek. He kisses Richie slow, with a contented hum. “I suppose you won’t settle down until we sort you out.”

“I promise after I will sleep like a fucking rock,” Richie swears. “A quiet, blanket-generous, cuddly rock.”

Eds unwinds himself from Richie and Eddie and stretches out his limbs. “All right,” he groans. “I’m assuming since you nymphos checked in first there’s lube stashed in every drawer, under the pillows and up the lampshade.”

Richie digs up into the bedding and fishes a tube out of the pillowcase. “Voilá,” he flings it at Eds.

“Cute. Predictable, but cute.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“How am _I_ predictable?”

Richie sighs. “Where do I begin? The Days of the Week underpants, the fact you schedule three different video games to be played evenly on your google calendar, or that you ease yourself into Daylight Savings a month in advance?”

Eds thumbs his nose.

Richie rolls around to try and locate the other stuff he put in the nightstand. “Do you want a condom?”

“No offense to your ass, but there is no way I’m gonna come again tonight.”

“Not with that attitude!”

But Eds is too conscientious not to double check, bless him. “Do you want me to wear one, Rich?”

With two Eddies in the mix, you can bet they already talked testing back when they were anonymously planning the hotel, only _now_ he knows why ‘Lees’ had done ‘every blood work up under the sun’ in the last six months, uh-doi. Meanwhile Richie had freaked out after Derry, and Eddie has only been with- well _both_ of them now, _hot hot hot,_ oh fuck, maybe someday they’ll double team him? Or they’ll both do Eddie? Or Eds’ll see how good Richie loves on Eddie and want to take a spin on Richie’s dick, himself? How many millions of horny permutations and positions are there for three people to fuck?? Richie stopped taking math as soon as he could to load up humanities, he doesn’t know, but they better get this show on the road if they’re gonna get through them all!

“Nah, let’s just fuckin’ do this before I blow thinking about it,” Richie decides, a little light headed.

Eddie giggles at the pair of them and sits up next to Eds. “Come here, Richie.”

“Yeah, get your hot ass over here,” Eds smirks.

Helplessly possessed by them both, whatever they should ask, Richie scrambles up onto his knees. He poses heroically, fists on his hips. “Well, gentlemen?”

“Oh, ‘gentlemen’,” Eddie looks to Eds before he puts both hands on Richie’s shoulders and nudges him to turn around. “Very formal. He’ll be goo in two minutes.”

“It’ll take that long?”

Eddie laughs as he bends Richie how he wants him on hands and knees. “Of course not, but we can’t hold that against him.” He kisses Richie’s back and begins a light massage. “Relax, sweetheart.”

Eds follows his example, kneeling beside Eddie and smoothing his hands across from where he does like a mirror effect. He can feel the steady heat of their two bodies against his, blending into one shared pool of wanting. And Eddie’s right about him being a soft touch. They’re already melting him- all the bones of his spine and neck going limp like beads on a string.

“There you go, Richie. Just relax and let us take care of you.” Eddie shuffles a little behind him and snaps a bottle cap. “Here, like that,” he shows Eds. Then he slips his hand down Richie’s ass, smearing his rim so generously that the runoff trickles cool down to his balls. He teases at him in shallow dips that drive Richie wild, moving, trying to get more.

“Oh. _Hnng_. C’mon, Eddie, if you show him all your tricks I’ll lose my mystery.” As though Eds isn’t currently staring down the barrel of his asshole.

Lips drag down his spine and then skip like a stone at the end, dotting the small of his back with kisses. “I _want_ to know you like this,” Eds says. “If I could I’d make a map of you. I want to fill you in. Every inch.”

“Mmmnnyes _. Fill me.”_ The thought of a Richie diagram right next to that globe... That he’d be something Eds would meticulously dedicate himself to, and be proud of, like that. He already has dedicated so much time and effort into rebuilding their connection and knowing him better. It’s enough to make Richie feel paper thin and pliable, all right. Whatever he wants. “ _Please_.”

“Go ahead,” Eddie says, and then the touch on him changes. They’ve switched. Eds teases his hole at first like Eddie had, then presses in deeper.

“Eds,” Richie hisses, pushing back into it.

“This all right?” he asks, concerned. “It’s kinda my first time fingering anybody up the ass...”

Richie whines. “It’s good, Eds, it’s good.” It _is_ good- it’s not _enough,_ but he can be patient _._ If he's patient they’ll take such good care of him. They promised and he can trust that, like anything else they say. _I’m okay, you’re okay, this is what I want, I want you, I love you_.

“Here,” Eddie says. Then Richie can feel that it’s two hands on him at once, folded together. Eddie guides Eds in a rhythm, slow and dragging and so fucking perfect he could cry. “That’s good. Feel that? He can take more.”

“More,” Richie pleads, and arches his hips.

“Right, jeez, okay,” Eds says, pulling out and rubbing him with two fingers.

Eddie makes a thoughtful noise. “Eds, let me hold your hand- like this. That way-“

“Oh fuck.” Eds holds his breath. “Okay, easy...”

“Fuck, oh my god,” Richie realizes what their doing with their fingers laced together. “ _Both of you?_ Both of you.” Richie blows out a shaky breath as they push in two fingers so there’s one from each of their hands, fucking into him together. In and out, Eds and Eddie. “Ohh.” Richie’s neck snaps back as the thrill of the stretch runs through him, to his toes and fingertips and even the ends of his hair. He can hear the click of their tongues as they kiss each other, then closer as they try to pepper him, too. “Ohh, guys. HolyfuckIloveyou.”

“We love _you_.” Eds grips at his waist with his free hand. “Can you lean back, Richie? Let us kiss you.”

Arms wobbly, Richie pushes off the bed as best he can and they both catch him around the middle, hands spread over his chest as it heaves. Eds kisses his neck and Eddie his shoulder. They’ve got him wound up tight and held close where he’s always wanted to be, surrounded by love and sure of it.

“You’re so good, Richie,” Eddie tells him. “So lovely.” He seeks Richie’s face, nosing along his jaw and kissing him soundly. Then he kisses Eds, his chin hooked at Richie’s shoulder, too. “You take care of him, I’ll be right here.”

“I got him. I got you,” Eds nods into Richie’s shoulder as Eddie pulls away and lays down. He eases Richie back down to all fours beside Eddie, and rubs his flank, muttering those words over, like his personal variant on an inhale and exhale. _I got you, Richie. I got you._

Richie buries his face in the pillow next to Eddie as two fingers become three. Eddie brushes his hair back and shushes at him as Eds wrings needy, shameless noises out of him.

“You want this so bad, you love him so much, don’t you?”

“Uhhuh.” Richie’s eyes are starting to blur, but he can still see Eddie smiling, so happy for him. He crooks his arm around Eddie to pull him underneath, where he can kiss him. Eddie takes off Richie’s glasses carefully first, then surges up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and murmuring sweet nothings against his lips. Verbless nothings. _Darling, love, my sweet, my dear._

“You two old lesbians,” Eds mutters fondly. “No wonder you need my dick.”

“We do,” Eddie grins to Richie’s neck. He lets go and lays back, red faced and red lipped. “Tell Eds what you want,” he coaxes, sweeping his hands along Richie’s quivering sides.

“Yeah, Richie,” says Eds, with matching gentleness. “Let me give you what you want.”

Richie can feel the bed move as Eds shifts around on his knees anxiously. The wet tip of his cock bats at the back of his thigh, waiting it’s turn and Richie can’t, won’t disguise a moan as Eds ruts it against him. He might crack and rattle out of his skin, if it weren’t for all the hands on him, holding him together. He whimpers as Eds pulls his fingers away and replaces them with the slippery head of his cock, taunting his twitching hole.

“Nnngod, Eds. Fuck me, please- _please_ fuck me _I want you_.”

“I know, I know, baby.” Eds drapes himself at Richie’s back and puffs his eager breath into his skin as he inserts himself. “I want you too, can’t you feel it?”

 _He can, he can,_ but Richie can only burst into tears in answer. He pushes back into Eds and Eds into him, no thought in his head, no feeling in his body except for _yes_. Eddie holds him, too, as they move, hands braced over Eds' on his hips and following their motion as Richie rocks, like pushing someone on a swing. He sags lower and lower in between them, until he’s not really moving himself, so much as riding their momentum, their bodies driving his. It’s everything he’d hoped. This is being wanted and admired and loved like he’s never been before.

Like they always have, they ping-pong Richie between tenderness and ferocious want until he’s dizzy with it.

“You won’t last long, will you, sweetheart?” Eddie kisses away some stray tears.

Richie swallows, his throat thick from crying. “Nnuh uh,” he kisses back.

Eds chuckles and gives Richie’s shoulder a wolfish snap. “We said we were gonna wear you out. You wanna really sleep good tonight, Rich? Be fucked-out and soft and sweet for us?”

“Please. _Harder_ ,” Richie tries to find his knees again so he can find an angle to take Eds deeper, harder, _more_. He starts moving again, frantic. “ _Fuck me, touch me_ ,” he begs.

Despite the slippery sheen of sweat on both of them, Eds grips his body tighter, close as he can while still thrusting to meet Richie. “I wanna fuck you so hard so- _fuck-_ fucking bad,” he growls. “Like you want. Don’t c-care if I throw my back out.”

“ _Hnngplease Eds please-"_

“Let’s make this big crybaby _so fucking happy_ , Dreamy.”

“Richie, love.” Eddie moves beneath him, nudging them apart just enough to get a grip on his aching cock. He pulls his hand down around Richie then jerks only twice before he goes from leaking to spilling.

“ _You guys,”_ Richie cries, fucking _blubbers._ He yelps and twists between them, not really sure which way is up or who’s hands are where anymore. He fully expects to pass out in their arms, but they keep him with them, here on earth, here between them. They kiss him and squeeze him as he comes, gasping their names and spasming.

“You’re so good. So good for us, you sweet thing.”

“So- so fucking good, Richie,” Eds grunts, shoving into him one last time and then going heavy on top of them. “ _Ohshitshitshit_.”

Eddie darts his head around to get Richie’s hair out of his mouth. “Is your back okay?”

“Uhhff.”

“ _Hah_ ,” Richie wheezes. Eds is fine.

“Eds?” Eddie reaches around for him, helpless at the bottom of the pile.

“He’s okay.”

Eds groans into Richie’s neck. “Sorry Rich, I didn’t think I was gonna.” He pulls out of Richie and slumps off to the side.

Richie squishes off of Eddie to the other side and rolls out of the bed on wobbly legs. “Don’t you two even _think_ about planting your flags in the middle, I just fucking _earned_ that,” he says, blindly hurrying to the bathroom.

“Wait-” Eddie flings a languorous arm out after him. “But we want to hold you-?”

“Little Debbie shoulda thought of that before he frosted my brownie,” Richie calls back over his shoulder.

Eds sighs. “Ugh, Rich that’s disgusting. The worst possible way to put it.”

“Oh!” Eddie realizes.

“It was fucking awesome, though...”

“ _Good glory_.”

When Richie comes back, they’ve turned out the lights and made a cozy little valley for him. He feels his way into the bed absolutely ready to make good on his promised rock impression. Eds and Eddie play the part of lizards, stretching out on top of him- though as far as NatGeo is concerned, lizards usually lick their own eyeballs or whatever, rather than kiss the rock and tell it how much they love it.

He fluffs Eddie’s hair while Eds recounts several points in the ‘hot noods’ chat where Richie was a completely oblivious moron.

“And then the time when I knew you were from Maine even though you never mentioned it, and I sent a dick pic to distract you-“

“That was a diversion?” Come to think of it, that particular hook up had come with zero foreplay...

“And the time I politely ignored that Eddie said he voted for Dukakis...”

“Coulda been a politically enterprising fourteen year old,” Eddie mumbles in his sleepy defense.

“To be fair,” Richie says softly, “-that’s on you two being unable to do math, more than me, I already knew about grandpa, here.”

Eddie’s eyes have long since closed, so he lazily gropes around the blanket to pinch Richie. “You never asked to see his face,” he yawns.

Oh god. Fuck. Is Richie Meg Ryan, standing in 91st Street Garden? _I wanted it to be you_.

On some level... _well_. He could make some excuse about maintaining his privacy and reciprocity or some bullshit, but really- Richie is much too exhausted. “If I could imagine _anyone_ , I guess, you know. It could have been _someone_ in particular,” he admits.

Eds snuggles back in the crook of Richie’s arm. The corner of his smile moves against his chest. “You know- even if I wasn’t already in love with you, I think I really would have liked you.” He pauses. “Maybe not like, _whip my dick out after one fucking movie date_ liked you, but like. Definitely by the time you implied you were a Björn Ulvaeus impersonator. That was pretty charming.”

Richie hums thoughtfully, strumming his hand at Eds’ back. “Wow. Well, I’m still half expecting Lees to show up so I guess _I’m_ just a big slut, then.”

Eds shoves him a little. “I’ll fight him off if he does.”

“Hey! Eddie fell asleep, cut it out-”

“Then shh.”

“ _You_ shh.”

“Make me,” Eds whispers, stretching to kiss him.  
  


-  
  
  


Eddie’s thoughtful, secret gift to Eds turned out to be a key to their apartment in Chicago, with a sterling silver key-chain engraved with three initials. So, Eds gives them a spare copy of his own, for however long he stays living here. Hopefully not too long. Richie lets himself into the apartment the night after his second New York show like its home, which is almost true. _Home is where the heart is,_ pg 35 of the Big Book of Cliches _._ His two loves are tucked up on the couch together, Eds with Eddie in his arms, Eddie snuggling the disco pillow. _The Fugitive_ plays on the TV, flickering light on Eddie’s glasses. Although he packed plenty of clothes for their trip, he has on a borrowed Prospect Park 5k tee that can only have come from Eds.

“Hey Trashmouth,” Eds calls to him as he drops his bag by the door. “You’re just in time to save us from having to put these leftovers in the fridge.”

“I didn’t choose the garbage disposal life, the garbage disposal life chose me,” Richie declares. He comes over to investigate the remnants of their meal, in to-go boxes on the side table. “What’d you have for dinner? Lemme guess- some fuh-ree-kay self incest?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose at Richie. “Teriyaki.”

“Even better.” Richie snags a mostly eaten satay stick and nudges the ottoman against the couch so he can pig pile in with them. He gnaws off the last morsel and tosses the stick back onto the table. Then he wiggles around despite their objections, waving his arms in front of their faces and greeting them each with a sloppy kiss. “Mmhello. And, oh, _hello_ ,” he purrs. “Who wants a lap dance? I do not accept paper money tips. Only the tips of your dicks. In my mouth. Maybe at the same time, who knows?”

Eddie captures his wrists to stop him from blocking the movie. “We’re watching that,” he laughs.

Richie strains to glance back over his shoulder. Oh hell no, he’s not waiting for Harrison Ford to clear his name, they’re only half way through. “It turns out that Nichols put-”

Eds grabs his face and silences him with another kiss. “ _Spoilers,_ asshole.”

“Fine,” Richie pouts, He squirms back around to his back and burrows up against the two of them. “But I’m gonna start sexting you.”

He unlocks his phone, but before he does anything else, he makes sure to take a picture of the three of them.

 **discogarbagedisposal** ♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie to the Eddies after they all move in together, everytime they do something remotely objectionable like hog his Girl Scout cookies: How can you LIVE WITH YOURSELVES!? ahahaaha why aren't you laughing
> 
> Anyway thanks for sticking out this wacky premise. I'm stitchyarts on twitter and tumblr where i’ve got a bunch of REE art.
> 
> And.... YES! There is a third installment coming soon to an ao3 near you!! Keep your eyes peeled.


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